


Going it alone

by oooknuk



Series: Trust [2]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Now settled in Inuvik, Ray answers a call from help from Ray Vecchio which changes everything for him.





	Going it alone

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognise will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: language, violence, m/m 
> 
> Note: This is a sequel to "Trust in me". Unlike that story, this one is slash. Duh. 
> 
> My thanks to Sasha for her capable, intelligent beta, and for being a capable, intelligent friend. This is for her.

I hear Fraser arriving ten minutes after me. Actually, what I hear is his precise, left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot stamp, same as always, shaking snow and dirt off his boots before he comes in. I hear Dief bark a second before he barrels into the living room where I'm sitting down with my beer, and then he licks me like it wasn't just three hours ago he saw me at my workshop. "You want one of these, buddy?" I joke as he sniffs at the bottle.

"I think alcohol and wolves are, as you would say, not a good mix, Ray." But Fraser's smiling. He knows I would never hurt the wolf. He doesn't ask why I'm drinking beer which is something I don't do often - it's too expensive up here for one, and for another, I don't want to, often. He loosens his tie and goes to the kitchen for his milk - the only thing that changes about his routine is whether he pours it into a glass, or whether, like today, he finishes off the carton, standing in the doorway.

"Busy day?" I ask him.

"Not really. It's been quiet this week." Well, thank God for small mercies - you wouldn't think a town the size of Inuvik could keep the local cops so busy, but it does, and so does the territory Fraser's detachment covers.

"We're still on for dinner at Maggie's, right?"

"Yes. Around seven."

"I need a  shower - I've been under a truck all day, and I stink." Dief whines in disagreement, and I pat him to thank him for the vote of confidence. "I picked up the mail - you got a letter."

Fraser looks for it on the table and picks up the fancy envelope. Florida post mark - no prizes for guessing who it's from, but Vecchio hasn't written to Fraser since we moved up here. He usually calls, so a letter means something's up. From the frown on Fraser's face, I can see he's puzzled too.  I pick my empty bottle up and toss it into the recycling bin in the kitchen. "I'm going to have that shower."

He nods, distracted and is already tearing the envelope open as I head upstairs. I think about waiting for him to read it, but I'm not that pathetic.  I got a bad feeling about this.

 

* * *

Ray doesn't ever make much effort to hide his feelings from me, and from the look he didn't give me, I can tell he is disturbed by the idea of a letter from Ray Vecchio. I set aside my own premonitions, and sit down to read what turns out to be quite a long note. Ray is right to be worried - this letter certainly has the potential to disturb the happy life we have made here for ourselves in Inuvik, with Maggie and Dief. In seven months, Ray has settled into small town Canadian life as if  born to it, and I know he is quietly smug that his great plan of escape from Chicago, formed after surviving devastating injuries from a suicide bomber, has been so successful for both of us. We reforged our bond of friendship over a year spent exploring the Canadian wilderness - a little too successfully in my case - but now that Ray has embarked on a slow, curiously old fashioned courtship of my sister, things are going much as I had hoped they would when we first laid our plans in Chicago.

But now this letter intrudes. I can't possibly ignore it but I wish Ray Vecchio had not sent it, even as I sympathize with the plight which has driven him to seek my help.  My Ray comes back toweling his hair off, changed into clean jeans but not yet into a shirt which allows me the innocent - relatively innocent - pleasure of seeing the play of his now well developed chest muscles, marred only by the fading scars on his chest. "So what does the king of the bowling alley have to say for himself? Tired of the high life yet?"

His voice is muffled at first by the towel, and then by the shirt he pulls from the laundry hamper he has not yet taken upstairs, so I wait until I have both his full attention and his hearing before replying. "What?" he says, chivvying me and sitting next to me on the sofa.

"Ray's asking for my help. It seems there have been a series of vandalism attacks and assaults around his premises, and he thinks they're all linked. He wants to know if I could come down and do a bit of investigating for him."

"Why doesn't he ask the local police?"

"He's tried that, but they don't seem convinced the different incidents are linked to each other. From what he's saying in his letter, I think he's correct in thinking that they are. He doesn't have much confidence in the local force."

"Will you go?" he asks, an intent look on his face.

I shake my head. "I can't - I mean, I want to, he needs me, but I don't have enough leave. I only have a week accumulated - it's not enough."

He shrugs. "Well, that's all you gotta tell him. He can't expect you to drop everything and run down to Florida to sort his problems out for him when he snaps his fingers."

He's being a little unfair, but then, considering the animosity between the two men, it is to be expected. That animosity is not going to be lessened by what I am about to tell him. "Ray - there's something else."

My voice must have alerted him, because he's gone pale. "Stella - something happened to Stella! Fraser, what ....?"

I put a hand on his arm. "Calm down - it's not bad news. She's pregnant, Ray."

 

* * *

Oh my God. That really hurt, and I close my eyes in reflex. I can feel Fraser's hand squeezing my arm and when I open my eyes, he's looking at me with those big blue eyes of his, full of concern. "How long?"

"He says six and half months. I'm sorry she didn't tell you."

I'm making an idiot out of myself, no matter how nice Fraser is being about this, and I make myself act like an adult for a change. "It's okay. I mean, it's none of my business, right? I was kinda expecting it, to be honest with you."

"I think it's discourteous that neither of them mentioned it before." Whoa - where did _that_ come from? It takes a lot for him to be critical of Vecchio, and I don't think I've ever heard him offer a mean word about the Stella, even though Stell could never stand him.

"What are you gonna do?" changing the subject back to Vecchio's request.

"I don't have any choice - I can't go, and that's an end to it."

"Why don't I go?" The words are out of my mouth before the thought is fully formed, and Fraser look as if I've punched him. But there's no going back. "Look - Stellas's being threatened too, if Vecchio is, and it's the perfect time for me. The guiding season is done for a couple of months, and business is slow. Besides, I used to be a cop - I could be marginally useful."

He blinks. "I'm sorry - I don't mean to imply the task is beyond you, but given the emotions involved ... Ray, this is too much for you to take on. It would be painful for you to interact with them, and as you say, I simply can't drop everything for Ray. The problem is not life threatening. I don't believe he or Stella are in real danger."

I'm not so sure, but I haven't seen the letter yet. "All I'm saying is that you can offer, okay? If he says no, then your conscience is clear, so is mine." To myself, I promise I might just make a few calls anyway, but I'll let him handle it for now.

Finally he nods. "All right - that's reasonable. And generous of you, if you don't mind me saying. I'll call him tomorrow after work, and you can think about it overnight. I want you to be sure before I make that offer to him." He stands up and gives me an uncertain look. "Ray - are you happy here?"

"Now where did that come from?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"I only ask ... well, your life here isn't as challenging as it was in Chicago, and as you point out, you are a trained, and a highly proficient police officer. Your talents aren't exactly being put to good use."

"Are you nuts, Fraser? Whose idea was it to come up here in the first place?" I'm yelling slightly. "I seem to remember _me_ having to talk _you_ into coming back to Canada." Sheesh - the guy was going to settle down in _Ottowa_ for God's sake until I gave him a kick in the pants.

He makes a 'settle down' motion with his hands. "I just thought - never mind, you've answered the question. We better get moving or we'll be late."

As we walk the quarter mile - sorry, half kilometer  - to Maggie's house, we don't talk about it, and I can tell he's sorry he's offended me. The thing is, he tapped into my biggest fear and as usual, my brain just came dribbling out my mouth. I love it up here - too much. I love being with him too much. I don't want to do or say anything to upset what we got here, and I don't want him thinking I'm unhappy, which I'm not - well, maybe about one thing, but I can live with that - because that'll get him worried and anxious and before you know it, we _will_ have a problem up here.

We're at Maggie's place in six minutes, and she's waiting for us with a big smile - those two, brother and sister in nothing but their blue eyes and the way their smiles make you just want to drop everything and roll over for a tummy tickle. She gives me a modest little kiss on the cheek even though I saw her this morning. I love this girl. I love both of them - that's kind of my problem. It was easy settling into a coming to dinner, going for walks relationship with her - she's as easy to be with as Fraser is, and twice as easy on the eye. If she wasn't her brother's sister - if her brother didn't exist - we'd be a lot closer, and I want to go down that path. I do, honest. It's just ... damn, I want both, and if I'm not careful, I won't have either of them, and I need them like I need air to breathe. I need Maggie as my friend, and I need her brother to ... I need him to live.  While I'm taking our coats, doing what I always do before a meal here and getting my head into the right place for the conversation, Fraser's telling her about Vecchio's letter, but leaving out one important element. "Stella's having a baby," I blurt out and shit, now Maggie's doing it to me. "I'm okay, Maggie."

"Are you?" She takes me by the hand and leads me over to the sofa. Fraser's looking at me that way again too.

"Sure. Look - guys, I appreciate the concern but I'm a big boy now. Stella's not my problem any more." If I keep saying it, maybe even I'll believe it eventually. Sure I will.

Twin blue pairs of skeptical, concerned eyes treat this with the disbelief it deserves, but I face them down. Fraser sighs finally. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry."

Maggie makes a face at him but accepts her brother's judgment. She excuses herself to go to the kitchen to check on dinner. "I shouldn't have said anything," I mutter to Fraser.

He clears his throat, the way he always does when he's not sure if he's about to put his foot in his mouth. "No, I think you were right to mention it. Your relationship with Stella and your attitude to her marriage is something that affects Maggie after all."

It affects you too, I want to say, but I nod, like I agree with him. "I better give her a hand, I guess," I say and go after Maggie into the kitchen.

 

* * *

Already Ray Vecchio's letter is sending ripples through our lives, and I want to tear it up and pretend that it never arrived. I do _not_ want Ray Kowalski to go to Florida and eat his heart out over his ex-wife, and put himself at risk over an Orlando PD matter. I nearly lost him two years ago and then I came close to losing his friendship over my unnecessary guilt and the misguided concern of his mother. What I _do_ want is for him to make more progress with Maggie, as she wants, and for them to be bonded the way Ray and I are, so that he is anchored firmly in our lives where we both want him - need him - to be. Maggie and I have on occasion shared our secret fear that this quiet life, this undemanding, unexciting existence, will be too little to keep our friend with us, and he will go back to the financial rewards and the adrenaline rushes of Chicago. Maggie can't understand why he is moving so cautiously in his courting - at first she thought it was because of her recent widowhood, now more than two years behind her, but now she wonders if he is wary of making a commitment which will keep him in Inuvik, in Canada. I pray she is wrong, but the alacrity with which he made his offer to take my place in Florida alarmed me.

I shake my head to remove these fears, phantom worries which may have no basis in reality. I can hear the two of them laughing, and then Maggie comes into the room bearing a casserole dish, giggling, as Ray says, "And then Fraser threw the gun - how many people do you know throw a gun?"

I mock wince. "Oh Ray, Maggie's heard that story before."

"Yes, and every time, I still don't get an answer. How many people _do_ throw guns, Ben?" she asks cheekily.

I throw my hands up at my tormentors - Maggie isn't quite as rigid as me and I'm sure she would have fired that pistol as Ray wanted. The fact that all ended happily has never eradicated Ray's irritation over certain aspects of the Henry Allen case, and I suspect he keeps this up to stop me becoming boring and agreeable.

Maggie is an excellent cook, as is Ray -  we have her over to dinner as often as we eat here. We none of us spoil the meal discussing the news in Ray Vecchio's letter, but conversation naturally turns to it as we drink tea before going home. Maggie sympathizes with me over the lack of leave which prevents me even considering Ray's request, and makes the obvious suggestions of what he might do to assist matters himself, even as she admits that Ray must have thought of all this himself. Our Ray sits quietly, listening, and I wonder if he's going to mention his suggestion. It appears not, and it isn't my secret to tell.

I look at my watch - it's ten, late for me, and Maggie has an earlier start than I do. Ray takes the hint and we all stand. I thank my sister and call Dief - I leave Ray and Maggie to say their good-byes while I stand in the cold air on the porch, discreetly, to give them privacy. He joins me a minute later, a small smile on his face. I wave at Maggie standing in her doorway, and then we walk home, our strides matching each other step for step.

 

* * *

Maggie gives me a nice kiss before I leave - she kisses good, and if it was just a matter of cuddling with her, there wouldn't be a problem. But like always, I can tell she wants more. Hell, I want to give her more, but I can't - and I can't tell her why. I just want to take things slow, sort a few things out in my head, and it'll all come good, I'm sure. It has to.  "See you soon?" she asks as I put my coat on.

"I live here, Maggie," I say, pretending I don't know what she means. Sooner or later, we're going to have to move on this. Town this small, you can't keep 'seeing' someone and not take it anywhere - it's not fair to them, especially when they have a position in the community. If I don't want to marry her eventually, I should step aside and let someone have a chance. But I can't do that either. I'm like a deer caught in the headlights - can't go back, can't go forward.

Fraser's saying something. "Sorry, Fraser, I was thinking about something else."

"I was asking if you had had second thoughts about possibly going to Orlando."

Second, third, fourth. "I still think you should ask Vecchio - he'll probably turn me down flat, and then we won't have to worry about it."

He stops walking and looks at me. "Ray - if he doesn't, and you go, we _will_ have to worry about it.  I tell you frankly, I don't like the idea of this. It's one thing going into a situation with the full back up of a police department, a badge and a gun ...."

"Oh, as opposed to doing things the Benton Fraser way and playing it by the seat of your pants?" I smile at him to take the sting out.

He smiles back. "Yes, I suppose so. But you were always more cautious and sensible than me."

"Maybe you're rubbing off on me. Come on, it's too fucking cold to be doing this outside."

We're inside and welcoming the warmth of the house in a minute, and Dief's already in his favorite position on the armchair closest to the radiator. It's only September, but it's freezing outside. I've been looking forward to the winter in a funny kind of way - the place changes into this weird, white ice palace and I can never get over how much it isn't like being in Chicago. Can't say the idea of going to Florida is exactly unappealing, but I wouldn't do it by choice.

Fraser grunts as he strips off his boots. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, Ray," he says, like he always does. Makes me feel cared for. He pats my shoulder as he goes, which is strange - he's not usually touchy feely. He's like that around me an anyone else, but usually only when he's feeling worried, or pleased. Worried is my bet tonight.

I clean my teeth and look at myself. Wonder what Stella would think if she saw me now. I've bulked up some, which I could do with. Hair's going a little gray, not that you can really tell, still bushy and more than Vecchio's ever gonna have too. A few more lines. Not bad for forty. Not as good as Fraser at forty one, but then who is. Shit, I shouldn't think about Fraser and how he looks.  This is getting to be a problem.

I lie in bed and try to ignore my hard on, and then I try to concentrate on thinking about Maggie. About her kiss and how beautiful she is. That hair, the slim body, the blue eyes. But that's my mistake. As soon as I think about eyes, I think about Fraser, and then it's Fraser who's featuring in the long-running X-rated short in my head. My hand goes to my dick without me even thinking about doing it. I thank God I don't have to share a room with him the way we did so often on the trip, as I come into my hand, wishing it was his hand on me. I wipe myself off and throw the Kleenex into the trash with disgust. Get a grip, Kowalski. You're gonna end up in a funny farm if you keep this up. And Fraser will never, ever speak to you again if he even suspects what you're up to.  What I need is to get away. I've been with Fraser continuously, as in, living in each other's pockets continuously, for nearly two years, and it's time to take a break. I have to convince Fraser to convince Vecchio to let me come down to Orlando. One thing's for sure - being around Stella and Vecchio would be enough to put a kink in anybody's libido.   
 

I keep myself busy the next day. There's always work I can do, even if it's just on our own Jeep, keeping it in tip top shape. I get a real customer at the garage I work out of during the off season, and spend a half day struggling with a completely worn out truck before admitting defeat and closing up for the day. Fraser's back. "Did you call Vecchio yet?" I ask him, pouring myself a glass of water and watching him drink his milk, as usual.

"I was waiting for you, actually. I wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind."

"Well, I haven't."

He gives me a piercing look, like I'm a perp and he's figured me for a murder. "Are you sure, Ray? This is what you want?"

"Fraser - I'm sure. I'm sure I want to do this, and then come home. I'm not planning on moving away, if that's what you're thinking. I want to help Stella, find out who's hurting them and then get out."

I must have convinced him, because he nods. "I'll call him now."

"You do that. I'm having a shower."

I leave him alone to talk to Vecchio. Despite what I said, I'm not sure - but I'm no chicken either. And hell, this is no big deal. Vecchio just wants someone on the inside for a few days. I figure I can wrap it up in a couple of weeks if I'm lucky.

I take a long shower to give Fraser plenty of time, but as I come down the stairs, I can hear his voice getting loud. He sounds pissed. I sit on the stairs until I think he's done and then saunter in like I just got out of the bathroom.

 "Well, Fraser, what did he say?"

He doesn't look at me, so I guess Vecchio said no, but then he says, "He agreed."

Oh, so what was all the yelling about? "No arguments?"

Fraser goes red, never met a man for blushing like him. Maggie doesn't do it, must be from Fraser's mum. "No, he was easily persuaded of the merits of your involvement." Easily? He stands up and finds the letter in his coat. "He said to let you read this. How soon do you plan to go?"

"No point delaying - the sooner, I go, the sooner I come back. I can probably get a flight in the next couple of days."

I reheat the stew I made earlier in the week, and over dinner, we talk about what's happening. Seems it's a mixture of straight out property damage, some graffiti, a couple of really nasty attacks, one on a staff member, another on a female customer, and some intimidation - letters threatening harm, a dead cat on their lawn, some other creepy shit.

"So why does he think it's all connected?"

"Mainly instinct, and timing - it's all erupted over the last two months. The local police say it's just random, but Ray's sure it's personal. He's very worried and he feels he's just too close to it to see the whole picture. He, uh, thinks that he may not be thinking clearly because of his concern for Stella."

I can understand that, and I can't argue with Fraser on trusting Vecchio's instincts - the guy was a good cop, whatever I think of him, and I swear by going on my gut. He points out that there are three possible targets for the vendetta - the business, Vecchio or Stella. It could easily be someone from Vecchio's days as a cop, or Stella's as a prosecutor, or just someone trying to take over the business. "Or it could be some random lunatic," I say.

"True enough, although that is the least likely option. I suggest you look at the personal angle. I can help you if you think it's anything to do with Ray's time in Chicago - he did manage to annoy some very powerful people. I imagine you know enough about Stella's work to investigate that." Well, actually, no, but Fraser can't help me on that.  We agree the easiest thing would be for me to go undercover at the bowling alley for a few days - Vecchio thought that would work, if I wanted to do it.

We talk until way past Fraser's bedtime, and I shoo him off - we've done all we can up here. "Sleep well, Ray," he says, and then again with the shoulder pat.

I put my hand on his arm. "Fraser - I will come back. I promise."

He smiles. "Of course you will.  Goodnight, Ray."

I lie awake a long time after that, tossing the details of the case over and over in my mind. It feels good, in a weird way, to be thinking cop stuff again. And then I think, this is just what Fraser's afraid of.

I make a few calls the next day, and set the trip up. It's gonna take five separate flights, and 20 hours to get to Florida. I can leave the following day. I clear up the few things in my office I got outstanding - good thing the tourist season is finished. I hope I'm only gone three or four weeks, but I can't be sure. I haven't got much in the way of suitable clothes for Florida heat - I'll have to pick up some light stuff when I'm there. Hope I don't have to borrow anything from Vecchio - him and me, we got totally different styles.

Fraser's arranged an hour off at noon to give me a lift - the flight's at 2.00.  Hanging around all morning gives me time to wonder why the hell I'm doing this. What am I trying to prove? Vecchio doesn't want me down there, that's for sure, and Stella is gonna freak. God, Kowalski, you sure know how to screw up a good thing. But I know I have to go, because if I don't get away for a few weeks, I'm gonna screw up the good thing I got going here. I know I'm running away, but it's like living in a hothouse here - too close, too intimate. I need some distance. That's all.

I putter around the house, check over my packed bags one more time, wondering if there's anything I've left out. A gun might be useful, but I can't carry one up here, and I haven't got a license in the States any more. Don't know if Vecchio still carries one. It feels weird to be doing a cop job, without the badge and the gun - hope I don't make a fool of myself  yelling "Chicago PD" in a crunch and going for a weapon that's not there.  Now I'm making myself nervous. Quit it, Kowalski. I'm thinking about making a final cup of coffee when Fraser pulls up, so I pick up my bags and go outside.

Fraser's leaning against the car, and takes a bag off me and slings it in the back seat. He looks solemn, a bit worried, so I flash him my best cocky smile. "Pitter patter, Fraser." I jump in the passenger seat and wait for him to get going. But he doesn't right away, just turns to me, and I figure I'm in for a lecture. I hold my hand up to stop him. "No, Fraser, I'm going. End of story. "

I make an impatient signal, like, we really ought to get going here, so he starts up the Jeep and we head out to the airport.  He parks the car, and I get my stuff. He gets out, and that worried look is back.   "What?" I ask.

He sighs. "I just wish I felt happier about this, Ray. Or that I could go with you."

Well, buddy, if you could go with me, then I wouldn't need to go in the first place. "Fraser, stop it.  I'll be fine. Unless your immigration boys come and throw me out, I'll be back messing up your life sooner than you can imagine."

"You don't mess up my life, Ray." The serious look worries me, but then he smiles. "Take care, Ray. We'll see you in a few weeks." I give him a mock salute and head to the ticket desk. As  I board the plane, I see him wave and finally drive off.  God, I miss him already. And that's why I need to go.

 

* * *

Did I mention I hate flying? I'm not scared, I just hate waiting, and waiting in a cramped smelly tin can with a bunch of strangers and their screaming kids, that could burst into flames or drop 30,000 feet out of the sky at any moment, is not my idea of fun. Never enough leg room, for a start, and the food comes when they want to serve it and not when my stomach needs it. I have to change planes so often I'm doing it in my sleep, except sleep is not much of an option. I get no shuteye on the plane, or when I have to hang around in Edmonton for six hours, so I am damn tired and cranky when I hit Orlando.  I have to wait forever for my bags to clear, and finally I'm on solid ground for good.

I walk out into Arrivals, wondering who's going to meet me, and spot Vecchio, on his own, waiting with crossed arms. He doesn't move towards me, but when I get to him, he grabs one of my bags, and sticks out a paw. "Hi, Kowalski, good trip?"

I almost snarl at him, but remember in time to be nice. "Uh, OK, I guess. Stella not with you?"

His face falls at that - not a good move to mention Mrs. Vecchio number two so quick. "So, congratulations, you're gonna be a pop," I say.

This is good, he lights up. "Yeah, thanks. Stella's waiting for us at home." I act cool. Remember it's her home now, she's with him, it's his kid, she's not yours. Fuck, I thought I'd got this under control.

He must be picking up the vibes because he gives me the once over, then says all snarkily, "Still a bag lady, I see, Kowalski."

This, I can handle. "Still a style pig, Vecchio?"

This gets a laugh. At least we're honest here.  I don't much like him, and he doesn't care for me, but I'm here to do a job, and I'm a professional. Least ways, I used to be.  He asks how Fraser is, and on this subject, we got no quarrel.  I tell him about Inuvik and our year off, on the hour long drive to the house he bought in Winter Park when he and Stella set up here. I guess they aren't too badly off - he's got his full pension, she's got her trust funds - and that's before anything they make off the business. It's a big house, swimming pool, big garden, security gates.

I'm sweating by the time we reach the front door - Vecchio's had the air-conditioning up all the way from the airport, and it's only now the humid heat is hitting me. Man, going straight from Inuvik to Orlando, whose bright idea was that? Oh, yeah, mine. I almost fall in through the door, into coolness again, and blink to get my sight back after the bright Florida sun. When my eyes start working again, I see Stella, at the end of the hall, watching me warily. I put on charming smile number three, and she relaxes a little and comes towards me. She's really big - more like nine months than six, and she's put on a little extra weight on top of what the baby's causing. Still cool and elegant though. She kisses my cheek friendly enough, and I flash her another smile.

"Congratulations, Stella. Looking forward to it?" She looks to see if I'm making fun, or making a dig, but all she can see is politeness, because that's all I'm letting myself feel.

"Yes, I am, Ray. I really am."

"Hey, that's great. That's greatness. You'll be a good mother, always said you would." She narrows her eyes at that - and maybe that time I am having a dig. She lets it pass, and with Vecchio standing there all impatient, decides to switch to hostess mode. I get the guest bedroom naturally, and she shows me where the spare towels and all that are.  I sit on the bed, zoning a little from lack of sleep, the flying - seeing her, all Madonna like and gorgeous. I look up and she's watching me, like she's worried what I'm going to do.

"Nice place you got, Stell. You happy down here?"

She gives me a little smile. "Yes, I am. I love Ray, love the life down here. It's nothing like Chicago."

There's not much I can say to that, that won't sound like I'm still mooning over her, so I concentrate on pulling off my shoes, and trying that trick from the _Die Hard_ movie - you know, scrunching the carpet up with your toes.  Doesn't really work, for the record. She says suddenly, "I should have told you, about the baby  - I'm sorry ...."

I cut her off. "It's okay, Stella, really. It's none of my business...."

"That's not why I didn't tell you. You see, I had a lot of problems at first, we tried for over a year and a half before I got pregnant, and then I lost it." Poor Stella, never could take failure. "Then I became pregnant again, so we didn't want to say anything until we were sure. Then all this business came up with the bowling alley, and I guess telling you just slipped my mind. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. Like I said, it's nothing to do with me any more. I'm really happy for you and Ve... Ray." That's as much as she's going to get out of me on this - just don't expect me to come to the christening. I change the subject. "Tell me about what's been going on, with these attacks." Her face tightens up, afraid - I saw her once before like that, when that nut tried to blow her up. "Do you think it's personal? About you?"

She shakes her head. "No - maybe, I don't know. I got a letter, but so did Ray. Just vague threats. The people who got hurt were a guy who worked for us at the alley, and a customer leaving late one night - someone we didn't know. " She looks me full in the eye. "I'm really frightened - so's Ray, even though he won't tell you that. He wrote to Fraser because he wanted someone who wasn't emotionally involved to look at it. Ray's so worried about me, and the baby, he knows he can't see it calmly. When Fraser suggested you, I didn't think it was such a good idea." I know why too, she knows I'm not exactly the cool, calm type. But I'm not the same guy she married, or even the same guy who left Chicago.

"Stella, I'm just here to help out Fraser, and you and Ray. The rest of it - you, me - I can leave that out of it.  I got a life of my own to go back to. I'm seeing someone, did you know?"

"Maggie Mackenzie?" I nod. "Fraser told Ray about his sister. I guessed you might find her interesting, seeing how close you and Fraser are." Now what the hell does she mean by that? She looks almost resentful, kind of,  but geez, did she think I was gonna hang around for ever, waiting for her to fall back in love with me?

It's Stella's turn to be polite. "Well, I'm happy for you." I give a sort of grunt, she can take that how she wants. I think we've spent long enough talking in private like this - I could do without Vecchio coming after me with a gun. I stand up - not sure if I want to shower, have lunch, or have a nap. My body clock's all out of whack. She suggests I have a swim before we eat, and leaves me to change into swimming trunks. Actually, I didn't bring any, forgot, so I have to make do with a pair of denim cut-offs. I grab a towel, and go out to the pool. The heat hits me again like a wet cloth. This could be a problem if I have to do a lot of running around - I've got used to the Canadian refrigerator, and Chicago's not exactly Florida. Oh, well, I can handle it, done worse. The water's nice, wakes me up, and I do a couple of laps in my funny, not quite swimming stroke that Fraser taught me. It feels good - can't remember when I last swam. Oh, yeah, I do - two years ago, in the therapy baths in the hospital. Not like this though.

I'm just messing about, when Vecchio comes out and sits in a deck chair, watching me. I give him a grin, and float on my back for a bit, then come over and lean on the edge near him. "That's quite a collection of war wounds, Kowalski." He almost sounds envious.

"You should know, Vecchio, you hung around Fraser long enough for a few of your own."

He grins. "Yeah, like he's a danger magnet or something. I knew I'd end up on Disability if I stuck with him long enough."

I know what he means.  Fraser just had this way of attracting stuff - women, messed up cops, loonies, psychopaths with big knives, nerve gas toting big game hunters. Didn't mind it at the time, but maybe it was just as well I left the force when I did. I think I used up all my nine lives working with the Mountie.

"So, tell me about the case." I haul my ass up onto the edge and sit with my legs and feet in the water.

"How much do you know?"

"Only what you wrote Fraser, and what you told him on the phone. Someone's either trying to spook you, or wreck the business. Which do you think?"

He sighs and runs his hand over the little hair he has left. "Damned if I know, Kowalski. If they want to ruin the bowling alley, it's not exactly high level stuff - the damage to equipment has all been covered by insurance, and we didn't lose a day's business out of it. Paul, that's the employee who got beat up, he got jumped late one night after closing up. So did Mrs. Markham. No robbery, but nothing specifically connecting it to the alley either. I wouldn't have even thought all of this was related if it wasn't for the letters Stella and I got. They just said that we were in for a run of bad luck, and we deserved all we got. Then when the dead cat turned up on the lawn, I started to worry."

"And the local PD?"

"Wouldn't know a vendetta if it leapt up and bit them on the ass. They think the letters are some harmless nutcase, the cat was done by a local psycho, and the property damage is unrelated."

"And you're sure they are related?" It didn't add up to much, but Vecchio was worried.

"I just got a gut feeling they are. What really scares me is that it all started a week after Stella announced she was expecting."

"You don't think maybe you're overreacting here, Vecchio? I mean, no one's actually threatened you or Stella yet, have they?"

That pisses him off. "Maybe I am overreacting, Kowalski, and maybe I'm not. A man's having his first kid at forty, and there's a bunch of weird shit on his doorstep, I think I'm entitled to be worried. How would you feel?"

"Dunno, Vecchio. It's not a problem I'm likely to have, is it?" Now that's not nice, Kowalski. I can see his dander is up, so I do the diplomacy thing. "OK, maybe I can see why you're upset. What do you want me to do?"

It doesn't work. He gets up off his chair and walks back and forth. "I knew I shouldn't have let Fraser talk me into this. You're gonna go in there like a bull in a china shop. And you don't even believe there's a problem.  You're no use to me, Kowalski. Go home."

I blink at that - can he be serious? I just spent nearly two fucking days getting here, and he wants me to turn round and go back? I get up out of the pool and walk over to him. He glares at me, but I don't back off. "Listen, Vecchio, you haven't given me a chance - I said I'll help, and I'm gonna do the best I can. I've done undercover, remember? I can schmooze with the best of 'em. I don't know if you're right or not - all I can say is that I'll try and find out for you. So why don't you put your temper back in its box and play nice? I'm all you got."

"Yeah, some comfort that is." That does it for me. I grab the front of his shirt and drag him up close. He's trying not to look intimidated, not that I care.

"You got a problem with it being me?" I spit at him. "Why don't you come right out and say it? You can't handle me being Stella's ex, that's the real reason, isn't it? You let me drag my ass four thousand miles to come down here to sort out your shit, and now you just want me drop it and go home? For what? Because I'm just trying to get the facts? That's a crime, is it, Vecchio? Funny, because I thought that's what us cops used to do all the time. You want it that way, fine. Just don't come crying to me or Fraser when it all blows up in your face, ya dumb fuck." I drop his shirt and stalk off, pissed as hell. Stella runs into me as I come into the house.

"What's wrong, Ray?"

I step past her, don't even look back. "Your husband wants me to leave. Great parties you Vecchios give." She calls after me but I stomp into my room. I lock the door, and once inside I try to calm down. Fraser's gonna kill me, I think, but I gave it my best shot. It's not my fault his friend is brain-damaged. I realize I'm dripping pool water over some expensive carpet, so I strip off and have a shower, trying to wash away the mad and the tiredness. I wonder if things can get any worse, and how soon I can arrange a flight back to Inuvik.  Someone's knocking at the bedroom door. I shut off the water and wrap a towel around me. It's Stella.

"Can I come in, Ray?"

I step aside and let her in. "It's your house, Mrs. Vecchio." She winces at the crack, but then her eyes widen. "My God, Ray, those scars. When did ..."

"You know about that, Stella, Mum told you - two years ago, remember. The loonie with the bomb?"

"Yes, but I didn't know it was as bad as that." She's upset, but I'm too mad to give a damn.

"Did you come in to ogle my body, or did you have something else on your mind?"

I'm rude, but don't care. Stella and Vecchio have been jerking my chain one way or another for years, and I come down to help them out of a hole, only to have Mr. Style Pig decide that I'm not good enough for his two-bit operation.  She swallows - I'm not making this easy for her.

"Ray, he didn't mean it. He's just worried, and scared. Don't take it personally."

"Oh yeah, and which bit of 'Go home' did I not understand? Why should I not take it personally that I'm in your home for exactly thirty minutes before I'm getting tossed out on my ear?"

"Because, like you said, I'm a dumb fuck. " It's Vecchio, standing in the doorway, looking sick. "I'm sorry, Kowalski, I acted like a jerk. Please stay."

I stare at him - it's a real apology, not his style at all. Stella's pleading with me with her eyes, which I could never resist, but I've got to get one thing clear.  "Look, I can't promise this will shake out the way you figure. I'll do my best - maybe you're right, and it's all connected, and maybe you're wrong. I'm just gonna try to get to the bottom of it."

"That's good enough for me." He puts out his hand, and after a second or two, I take it. We shake, and he gives me a smile. "Want to put some clothes on, Kowalski? You know I'm the jealous type."

"Huh, got every reason to be, Vecchio." But I give him a grin,  shoo Stella out so I can dress, and shut the door. Well, maybe things are going to be okay after all. No wonder Fraser was worried about me coming down here. I got to keep a grip on myself - this is no different from any other undercover job. The sooner it's over, the sooner I can go home. Thinking about that puts me in a better mood, and by the time I come out again, where they're setting up lunch, I'm as civilized as the next guy. Stella looks worried but I flash her a grin, and she smiles back. So we're all playing nice again. That's good. The meal is great - they have a Cuban housekeeper who cooks like a dream. I pig out on _ropa vieja,_ black beans and rice - Mrs Estefan is happy, because she's got the same attitude to feeding me as my mom has.  I'm feeling pretty mellow after eating the first meal in 24 hours that didn't come out of a box. All I really need now is about twelve hours sleep, but the swim and the argument have sort of woken me up, so I can concentrate on what Vecchio's saying.

"There's a vacancy at the alley now. I can put you in, say you're a friend of a friend from Chicago looking for a fresh start. I can find you a room in a hotel down near there - you can't stay here."

I'm happy with that. "Anyone know I'm coming?"

He shakes his head. "I can't rule out anyone at the moment, and I don't know anyone down there for more than two and a half years. I think they're a good bunch of guys, but someone's doing this - could be anyone of them, if it's on the inside."

"Does it have to be an inside job?"

"No  - it's just a possibility. The police talked to everyone, but got nowhere, naturally. No prints, no evidence."

"You got the letters?' He gets up and goes over to a roll top desk in the corner, and pulls a file out. He hands me two pieces of folded white paper. Photocopies - he confirms the originals were on plain, ordinary paper, like you use in a photocopier, or an office printer.

"No prints off these, either?"

"No. That's what makes the idea of it being a local fruitcake wrong - how many crazies do you know who wear rubber gloves to send poison pen letters? "

Not many - he's got a point. Both are computer-generated, unsigned, and very similar in their wording. Both say that the addressee is scum, that bad fortune awaits them, and they will deserve what's coming to them. Nothing specific, nothing actually threatened. "Ring any bells at all?"

"None. I've had hate mail before, back in Chicago. This is pretty mild compared to that."

"Tell me about the dead cat." Vecchio looks wary at this, and I wonder why, until his eyes flick at Stella. There's something he hasn't told her about this.

"It was slit along the belly - a real mess." Stella winces.  The phone rings, and she answers it. "Mom," she mouths and picks up the cordless phone and goes into another room. Vecchio takes the chance.

"The cat was pregnant, Kowalski."

Oh fuck. "Does she know?"

He shakes his head. "No, and I don't want her to. She's got enough to worry about. There's been a few things I haven't told her about - other dead pregnant animals, killed like the cat, a wreath sent 'by mistake' - a baby doll with its head torn off in the yard. Could have been kids, but the thing is, I had this sort of thing once before. Guy called Charles Carver - you know about him?" I nod - it was on the files. Total whacko, serial killer - tried to kill everyone connected with Vecchio, before he was stopped. "He sent me a pile of clues - toys - before each attack, giving me hints about what he was going to do."

"Any chance it's related?"

"No - he's on death row. The point is, I know when someone's trying to psych me out - I know this is all connected. I haven't told Stella all of it." I agree we shouldn't tell her, and I can see why Vecchio's so rattled.

"I asked Lieutenant Welsh if he could give me a list of any perps me or Stella sent down that got out in the last six months."

"Any likely candidates?"

He gives me a bitter laugh and goes and gets another piece of paper with over forty names on it.

"There's a lot of suspects here, Vecchio."

I don't mean to sound skeptical but he bristles. "Well, we were pretty damn good at our jobs, Kowalski."

"Any one look good for it?" I ask mildly.

He sighs. "All and none of them - the MO doesn't fit, and none of them are known to be in Florida, at least that's all Welsh could find out for me. I put out some feelers back in Chicago, but no one's heard anything. If it is one of these, then they're pulling strings on someone down here."

Back to square one. We talk about some of the names on the list, but I agree with Vecchio - right now, it doesn't help. Stella comes back in and we're both wearing our best innocent looks. She tells Vecchio the non-news from her mother. I yawn despite myself.

"Sorry, kids - haven't slept." Vecchio looks a bit annoyed, but I'm not doing it to piss him off - I feel shattered. "Tell you what - let me catch some zzz's. We can finish this later.  There's one other thing - I'm gonna need some clothes."

"Already taken care of, Kowalski. My employees wear a uniform, and tomorrow, you can go shopping." Good - that means I don't have to borrow from him.

"Right. Later, guys."

Despite being totally zonked, my mind goes over what Vecchio's told me. I don't like the stalker's, or stalkers', obsession with babies and pregnant animals - even if it's Vecchio's kid, there's no way I want anything to happen to Stella or her child. Nobody deserves that. None of it seems to fit together - why try and hurt the business and threaten Stella at the same time? I shiver - if this is the same person, Vecchio's dealing with one sick puppy.

Sleeping for a couple of hours does the trick - I'm too wired to sleep any longer than that. Vecchio and me plan how we're going to handle it. "I'll have to use my real name - I haven't got any false papers. Do they know Stella was Kowalski before?"

"Oh, hell, yeah, they do. Forgot about that." He thinks for a bit.

"Could I be her ex-brother in law?"

"Hmmm. Could work, if we make it that hiring you is a favor for her. Yeah, okay." I hope nobody finds out the real connection - no one would believe Vecchio would give his own rival a job. But he's as good at undercover as me, so between us, we should be able to handle it.

The following day - Friday - Stella drives me into town, and I get some light pants, a pair of shorts, and a pair of shoes. You just can't buy stuff like that easily in Inuvik.

"Do you miss the choice?" Stella asks - she could never handle living up there.

"No - you make do. Life's a lot simpler there." She's unconvinced - fine, I'm not trying to persuade her to come back with me.

"I never thought you could do it - I mean, give up the force, give up city living."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Stella." She doesn't have an answer for that. It's true - I've changed a lot. So has she - three years ago, she'd be already tearing my head off, but now she's just a little sad. Got mellow, has my - no, not my - Stella. Maybe the style pig is good for her. I feel a little twist of jealousy - not much, like remembering a bruise you had before. I love her, but I guess I didn't really ever know her as well as I should. Or maybe the person she is now wasn't there to know then.

After lunch, I pack my bags, and Vecchio takes me to the bowling alley in downtown Orlando to meet his manager, Pete Dunn. Dunn's a balding, paunchy guy, past fifty - Vecchio said he came with the business, but that he's an okay guy, professional at what he does.  He's suspicious of me, even after Vecchio spins him a line about Stella twisting his arm to give her former brother-in-law a fresh start in Florida.  Vecchio's good, I'll give him that - he uses just the right amount of weary dislike to convey to Dunn that I'm a pain in the ass but that he, Vecchio, would appreciate Dunn giving me a chance because it will make his married life a lot happier. Dunn wants to know what I did before - I tell him I worked in a meat packing factory (like my Dad), but left when I had a car accident, which should answer any awkward questions about my scars if they come up. I admit I've been bumming up in Canada for a year and a half. "Got too quiet for me, up there," and I wink, trying to imply that I mean that in a  sexual way. He seems to believe our shtick, and tells me to come back tomorrow.

Vecchio's quiet when we come back out to his car. "Do you think this will work, Kowalski?"

I shrug. "We can only try - if the  local cops haven't been able to get a lead with direct questioning, I don't see what else we can do. Besides, there has to be an inside angle to this - someone who knows about getting inside the building, someone who knows about Stella."

"Trouble is, that's a lot of people - we get a lot of casual staff, especially over the summer. Stella's down here a lot, any of them could know about her being expecting."

This is not good news, but we have to start somewhere. Vecchio has lined up a cheap hotel for me to stay at. I hadn't realized how cheap. "Come on, Vecchio, you don't really expect me to stay here, do ya?" I bitch, lifting my feet over the piles of crap on the stairs.

"Quit griping, Kowalski - this is just the right price for what I'll be paying you, and you can walk to work." He's trying not to grin - I swear he's found the worst place he could, on purpose.

I glare at him. "You owe me big time for this, you sneaky bastard. And if I catch one damn thing from staying here, you are personally covering every medical bill. You hear?"

"I hear you." He's still smirking. Well, the way to answer that is to catch the stalker, and get out of here quick. I suppose Fraser wouldn't be complaining  - hell, the places he stayed in Chicago weren't much better than this. Vecchio hands me $500 for 'expenses' and leaves me to it. I put my bags up high on a cupboard, so they don't get crawled over. There's not a lot I can do before tomorrow. I read the notes Vecchio has left me on what's been happening, and on the present employees at the alley, until it's time to find some supper.  I go for a walk, and buy a burger, one of the worst I've ever eaten - this is really not a good neighborhood. I really am going to get Vecchio for this.

 

* * *

I've been told to turn up at eleven, and I'm on time. Dunn's already there, and he gives me a red shirt to put on over my T, with the alley logo on it. It makes me look like a serious dork, especially wearing my glasses for extra uncool, but that's okay, getting people to underestimate me is a Kowalski specialty. He tells me that I'm clean up man - empty the trash cans, ashtrays, pick up litter, wash tables. Anyone needs a hand with something, unloading supplies, I give them that hand. It's a shitty job, but perfect for me, since I can go all over the alley, and talk to everyone. The alley opens at 11.30, but things don't really get going until after lunch, when it gets very busy.  It's a big place, and Vecchio has twenty people working there at various times. I wonder where to start, and since it's easiest, and most pleasant, I start with the women working the food and drink counter.

By the end of the shift, I got zip. Nada. Nothing. Vecchio's got some nice people working for him, chatty, polite, shocked at the attacks on their fellow employee and on the customer. Some complaining about the inconvenience the vandalism and machinery damage caused, but not a whiff of anyone being remotely pleased about it. I have to take it easy with the questions - I've established myself as a Lothario with the concession girls, but I catch Dunn giving me a couple of dirty looks. I haven't yet said more than a couple of words to the guys working the pin machines, but they're mainly college students. All fresh faced and pleasant. Something tells me that I'm not going to get far with them.

At the end of my shift, Dunn catches up with me. "Enjoy yourself, Kowalski?"

"Yes, sir. Nice place you got."

"Yes it is. We run a family friendly business and we have family friendly staff. And I'd appreciate it if you'd remember that and keep your eyes and your mind off our female staff. Got it?"

The telling off surprises me. This guy really doesn't like me. I'm not usually that quick at pissing people off. "Yes, sir. Understood."

He lets me go, and walks off. Vecchio's got one protective manager there. I shrug, and go back to my flea pit hotel.

The next two days are equally fruitless. I can't find a chink anywhere. The only person who sets off my alarm is Dunn, and that's only because he doesn't like me. This doesn't help me in asking questions, but still I manage to work out that the staff are just genuinely nice people. There has to be an inside person. I know it. I just can't find it. In the evenings, I go over Vecchio's files again and again, but nothing leaps out at me. The staff all like Vecchio and Stella, like their jobs. Sickening, really.

Night number four. Nothing, and playing janitor is wearing a little thin.  I wonder how much longer I should give it before I tell Vecchio we have to try something else. A week, max, I think. I leave with the last of the employees, and take the opportunity to walk around the building to see the layout. Not much to see. Bowling alleys are the same shape all over, I guess.

I'm thinking of moving on back to my dump of a hotel when something catches the corner of my eye. I move close to the air-conditioning plant at the back of the alley, and see the door's open a crack. Worse, the thing that caught my eye is there - a flame. Shit, shit, shit. I can't get back into the alley to get a fire extinguisher, so I call 911, give them the location, then, after a moment's thought, I call Vecchio. It could be a coincidence. Something tells me it's not. I stay well out of the way while the fire crew arrive. Vecchio's not far behind. The fire personnel cool the shack with their hoses, but when they prise open the door, the damn thing nearly explodes. It's a bad fire. There's nothing Vecchio or I can do but watch and curse. I tell him what I saw.

"Arson?" he asks, but he doesn't need to. We both know it is. After a tense twenty minutes, the fire's out, the police arrive and I give  them a neutral statement. Vecchio doesn't inform them of my special status, and I make out that I was hanging around because my place is such a shithole. Vecchio almost grins when he hears that and I have to turn away to stop myself jumping all over him. The police are suspicious, but I play my best "who me?" routine, and they drop it.  The fire investigator has already found the cause of the blaze - a couple of margarine tubs. It's an old and dirty trick - you put lit candles into a full tub of fat or butter and there you go, instant fire. No attempt to hide the fact it's arson. When the police leave us alone, Vecchio tells me to git - no point in drawing attention to myself. I'll speak to him tomorrow, at his house, before work.

I don't sleep well, and wish for the hundredth time Fraser was working this with me. Hell, I just wish he was here. I miss him.  He has a way of making everything seem so logical. He'd probably have nailed the bastard doing this in five minutes flat. But that would defeat the whole purpose of me getting away from him... so I put a stop to that line of thinking.

I take a taxi to the Vecchio mansion across town, and when I get there, he looks like hell.  Stella's obviously not slept either. She gets us coffee, and then sits rubbing his hand the way I remember her doing for me. He's worked up. "This is the worst yet, Kowalski. They could have destroyed us."

"Don't think so, Vecchio. I think someone would've called 911 if I hadn't. It's just trying to get your attention."

He stands up and paces. "But for what? We haven't had any more notes, no one's called to make threats or offers. I don't get it."

"Maybe you ain't supposed to. Not yet. Look, you gotta keep your cool. We caught this, and no one was hurt..."

"This time..."

"Okay, this time, but there's nothing we can do. I'll keep asking around. But I'll tell you, it would make my life easier if you didn't hire such squeaky clean people."

That gets an actual smile out of both of them, which is nice to see.  "They're good people. I don't want anyone hurt down there."

"Trust me, Vecchio. I never lost anyone yet."

The air-conditioning plant being out of action shuts the alley for a day while a temporary machine is set up, then it's business as usual. The employees are all horrified, in that slightly excited, over chatty way people get who don't see horrible things every day of the week. No gloating that I can tell, just genuine shock.  Dunn's pretty tight lipped, makes a few sarcastic remarks about the lost business, but he seems as put out as everyone else is.

After the initial excitement is over, things settle back into what has become routine. I keep my eyes and ears open, but nothing, and I mean nothing comes up. I don't know how long I can keep doing this - I mean, I do have a life, with friends and work to go back to, and maybe I've been made. Maybe me being here is stopping things happening. But then I think of the fire. Someone's upping the ante, so hold on, Kowalski.

Tuesday night, Vecchio and Stella are meeting Dunn at the alley. The need to replace the air-conditioning unit has pushed forward some plans for renovation, so they're talking to a contractor. It's eight o'clock, and I can see Stella keeps looking at her watch, then finally she leans over to Vecchio and says something. He makes a face, then signals to me. "Hey, Stanley. Do me a favor and take my wife over to her hairdressing appointment, will you?" I could bitch about being used as a taxi service, but I know what he's doing and I'm grateful he's protecting her. She could drive herself, but it's dark, and she's getting pretty heavy on her feet. He tosses me his car keys and I fake a salute before walking her out to the car.

"Thanks for this, Ray."

"No problem, Stell. You'll have to tell me where to go." It's a ten-minute drive. Stella tells me that the salon owner is a friend, and runs a late night session for her pals. I don't think she needs the hairdo, but I guess she just wants to feel good, even with her stomach ballooning. I find a parking slot about half a block away. The street's well lit, but even so, I take her arm, and keep an eye out.

I hear a polite voice say, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Charlotte Street." Stella and I both turn to answer, when I see a raised arm, and then a burning sensation in my eyes. I grab my face in reflex, and am held and pushed  down on the bonnet of a car. I can't get free, or see worth a damn, and I hear Stella scream in terror and pain. They must have got her too, and I hope to God pepper spray doesn't affect unborn children.  I struggle as hard as I can, but even the sound of Stella's fear can't get me free of this goon. But then, suddenly I'm released, and I hear footsteps running away. I stumble towards the sound of Stella's voice, still blind, and fumble for my cell, pressing the speed dial for 911 and call it in. Stella's clutching at me, but I manage to work out that she's not hurt apart from the pepper spray. They got her bag, though. The police arrive, with the paramedics right behind. While they're flushing out my eyes, I tell the cops what happened. Unfortunately, one of them was also at the alley fire, and he's more than a little suspicious of me being involved in another incident to do with the Vecchios.  When we can both see, I convince the police that Stella needs to be at home. I call Vecchio at the alley, and tell him to get his ass back to his house, then I drive Stella back, a squad car escorting us. I get her settled, then it's my turn for a grilling. Vecchio arrives in the middle of it, and decides the best thing to do is to come clean. The local PD are ecstatic. Not.

"Mr. Vecchio, your friend here may be actually precipitating the trouble, do you realize that?"

That pisses me off - these clowns sat on their fannies for weeks while Stella and Vecchio were being terrorized, and now they're blaming me? I take a step towards the officer, forgetting for a moment that I'm not a cop any more myself, but Vecchio puts a hand on my chest.

"Cool it, Kowalski. He could be right. But you're our best chance of catching these guys." He turns to the policeman. "Officer, he's not doing anything illegal, so you can't stop us. And I know the second we discover anything, we'll turn it over to you. Right, Kowalski?" I roll my eyes, but agree. Sheesh, he's become so fucking establishment.

Eventually the uniforms are appeased, and after extracting numerous promises from me not to get in their way - as if - we're left to do our own postmortem. Stella's gone up to her room to rest, and Vecchio goes up to check on her and to call their doctor to make sure there's no side effects from the pepper spray they need to worry about. He comes back. "She's okay." Vecchio takes in my red eyes and decides now's not the time to play hardball. "Glad you were with her, Kowalski."

I grunt. "Wasn't much use."

"You don't know. They might have hurt her worse." There's not much I can say to that. "You want a drink?"

Oooh, man, do I - I'd kill for a beer. Vecchio reads my mind and pushes a cold bottle into my hands, opens one himself, and relaxes on his sofa. "You think this is related?"

"Don't you? How many mace muggings do you get down here?"

"One or two. Gut instinct tells me it's connected. " He gets no argument from me. I tell him what I heard - not much. Two male voices, no accent that I could tell. The arm I saw had a white hand, so one of them was white. Nothing to go on.

"How long are you going to give it?" he asks.

"Another week, then I'm done. I've tried everything - there's just no fucking leads. But I need to look around inside after hours - can you arrange that?"

He says he can, and gives me a key, which I plan on using the next night. He also tells me that he's going to take Stella up to Chicago for a few days to see her parents - they'd been planning to anyway, and now's a good time. And it gets her out of the way of any more attacks related to my being here, we're both thinking.  We finish our beers and he drives me back to the fleapit. Before I get out of his car, he puts his hand on my arm. "Kowalski... look, I don't want you getting hurt. The alley... it's not worth a life."

I grin at him. "Not doing it for your precious alley, Vecchio. I can look after myself." He cocks his head, then waves me out. I'm surprised he cares, but it's probably only that he doesn't want to have to deal with the Stella if I get killed.

I realize I really, really need to talk to Fraser. I need to hear his voice. I know, I should be calling Maggie. But it's Fraser I need right now.

 

* * *

Fraser agrees with me and Vecchio that the attack wasn't just a random mugging. He wants to know if I think I might have been the target. I shrug even though he can't see me. "Dunno, Fraser. Something's queer, though. Vecchio's left me a key so I plan on doing a little snooping at the alley after hours tomorrow."

I practically hear Fraser trying not to patronise me by telling me to be careful. All he says is that he thinks it could be dangerous.

"You worry too much, Fraser. I can handle myself and ten to one, I find out who's behind it tonight. Look, gotta go. Will you tell Maggie I'll try and call her this weekend?"

He says he will, and I hang up. I know he wishes he was riding shotgun with me. He's worried about me, I can tell. Going to have to teach him to haul back on those 'keep the Kowalski safe at all costs' ideas he got into his head after I was hurt last time. I think he thinks being in Canada and happy again will only work if I'm there, which is crazy, like I'm some good luck charm. Not that I'm in any hurry to leave or anything. Then I think I'm not much different - my life now revolves around Maggie and Fraser, which is no bad thing, provided nothing happens to them. Maybe I was trying to prove something by running off down here after all. I think there's gonna be three happy people when I get back and we got our little family unit together again. Settle down with Maggie, stay friends with Fraser. That's the game plan.

Next night, I clock off as usual and walk back to the hotel and change into dark clothes. I wish again I had a gun - I forgot to ask Vecchio if he has one. It's not the brightest idea I ever had - going in without backup to a place which someone is trying to burn down or vandalise on a regular basis, and if the cops find me, I'll have to get Vecchio to vouch for me. But then, I'm getting nowhere with wI've been doing. I'll have to rely on good old Kowalski street smarts. And luck.

I wait until 1.00 a.m. then slip back to the bowling alley. I quickly check the doors are all secured, and there are no interesting lights coming out of the machine room, then let myself in the back door. Once inside, I am less sure of how good an idea this is - there's a lot of territory to cover. Still, gotta start somewhere, so I decide to check Dunn's office, that being somewhere I can't get to during the day. He's an orderly man and his desk is clear, but there are four filing cabinets, and shelves and shelves of box files. I could spend hours in here and not find anything, I realize. I check the cabinets quickly - the file labels are completely routine. The box files are invoices. I notice a flip over diary on his desk - I turn to the date of the attack on me and Stella. There's an asterisk in red ink drawn on it, but no other comment.

I sit down and open drawers - all tidy, nothing suspicious, nothing taped to the underside of drawers. Then I check out the office organizer next to the computer. It's one of the ones that holds all your pens, and paper clips, and post-it notes - I had one in Chicago which only ever held busted rubber bands and dried out whiteout bottles. I pick up the post-it pad - nothing there. I am about to put it back, when I realize there's a post-it stuck to the underside, over the protective paper. I turn the pad over. "4.00, Danny S," then a telephone number.  That name - it rings a bell, and even thought it is totally innocent looking,  suddenly I realize this is what I've been looking for. The mark on the date and the time of Stella's appointment - a coincidence, maybe, but I am now convinced that Dunn is mixed up in this. He would be the perfect person to know everything about Vecchio and Stella, although what he has to gain from ruining his employer's business, I can't figure. But he's dirty, I'd bet my life on it - I'm going on my gut on this.  I need to cross check 'Danny S' against that list Vecchio gave me, but I left it in the hotel. I got enough to start digging around on Dunn. I write down the telephone number on the note, and look round more, but there is nothing else incriminating. I'll call Vecchio tomorrow and see if he can give me any more on Dunn - maybe Fraser will have an idea or two. But it's too late to call either of them tonight.

It's nearly three a.m. before I lock up Dunn's office, and go out the back door. It clicks shut behind me, and after checking it's firmly locked, I start walking back to the flea pit. It's dark down here, and I'm starting to think that maybe it wasn't real smart to be on foot in this part of town, at this time of night. I hear a step behind me, and whirl round, too late. I'm whacked along the base of my skull, and I fall, dizzy. A booted foot kicks me in the ribs, and I curl into a ball, trying to work out which blow hurt worse and what I'm gonna do to the motherfucker who's hit me. My arms are yanked behind me and get cuffed, then I'm hauled up, and I can see the bastards for the first time. Two white guys, wearing ski masks - the same ones, I figure, who jumped Stella and me before. One of them grabs my hair and shoves his face in mine. "Sticking your nose in where it ain't wanted can get you killed, Kowalski."

"Messing with me can get you seriously fucked up, you piece of crap, " I growl at him through gritted teeth. The guy laughs, then lands one right in my gut, which puts an end to our polite conversation. The other one pulls a piece of tape out of his pocket, and puts it over my mouth, right round to the back of my head, then they drag me over to a car and shove me in the back seat, face down on the floor. Someone's sitting in the back, their feet on my back, making sure I can't get up, not that I could. I can feel panic rising - it's hard to breathe in this position, and the tape isn't helping. I concentrate on trying to get the air in, to calm down. Pointless trying to work out where we're going - I don't know Orlando, and the driver's going fast, turning often, I can't keep up. I wonder whether they intend to kill me, or just frighten me. I think maybe it's a good sign they haven't offed me yet, but then maybe they just want a better place to dispose of the body.

We drive for a while, and then we stop. A hand pulls me up by the hair, hard, and I would have yelled except for the tape. Then a cloth bag is dropped over my head, covering my face, and the base is tightened, a drawstring I guess. That really freaks me out - I can't handle having my face covered - and I struggle like crazy. Does me no good, I just get hauled out of the car and dragged along. I hear a door open, and then I'm being carried, pulled up stairs. Someone's got me on either side, which is the only thing stopping me falling. I hear another door being opened, a big heavy one from the sound of it, I get carried further and then I am thrown onto a hard floor - concrete. I'm finding it hard to breathe - why don't they take this blindfold off? My hands are uncuffed but before I can do anything, my arms are grabbed and pulled in front of me. I feel something between my hands, like a big vertical pipe, and then I'm cuffed again. I pull at my wrists - they must have chained me to the pipe. I pull myself up into a sitting position, trying uselessly to work out how many people are here with me. Like that makes a difference.

"Stanley Kowalski, I presume?" Does he want an answer? Because I'm a little tied up now. "Oh, I forgot, you can't reply, can you. Don't worry, I think I can probably talk enough for both of us." Hardy ha ha - he's a comedian. I turn my head towards the voice. It's a Chicago accent, I think, doesn't quite match the goons who grabbed me. So is this a new guy?

I hear him speak from much closer. "Former Detective Kowalski, former husband of Stella Vecchio, friend of Constable Benton Fraser. I wonder what brings you to Florida? Could it be that you are doing a bit of snooping around for my old friend Ray Vecchio? You see, that's a shame, because that's going to get you dead. Nothing is going to stop me bringing that pig down." Come a bit closer, you bastard, I'll smash your teeth in. I get to my feet, but then someone swipes my legs out from under me, and gives me a couple of hard kicks in the side. Sharp pain explodes in my side and there's a sickening crunch. I guess they broke something that time. I groan from under the gag, which only gets a laugh from our friend with all the facts on yours truly. His voice comes in from about six inches from my head. "Enjoy the rest, Kowalski  - I suspect it could be a long one." I hear footsteps walking away and I scream from behind the tape. No reply. God, my ribs hurt.

Time to assess the situation. One, no one will care I'm gone until the Vecchios get back. Two, I'm handcuffed to a freaking big metal pipe, which, will, not, move - I pull again and there's no give, I only make my wrists raw, and there's no leeway behind it - my hands are held pretty close to the pipe, and it's too close to the wall for me to move my hands or my arms behind it. Three, I'm probably gonna choke to death from this gag and the hood. Four, there's nothing I can do about one, two and three. I sit up again. I can feel a wall in front of me, but to use it for support,  I have to twist because of my hands around the pipe, and that's killing my ribs.   I scrape my hands up pretty good on the wall trying to get enough room to pull this fucking blindfold off - I get exactly nowhere, and give up.   The only way I can get even marginally comfortable is to lie on my side, facing the wall. I can feel the cold from the floor seeping through my thin shirt. Serves me right for bitchin' about the heat. The situation reminds much too much of being on that boat with Fraser - all I need is for the room to flood, and it'll be just like old times. This time, there's gonna be no Fraser, coming to the rescue and shooting off the cuffs. The best I can hope for is that Vecchio and Stella will miss me and get the cops looking for me, and even that's not much. I could be in any one of a thousand buildings in Orlando, and since they aren't coming back for three days, I could be dead by then. Great going, Kowalski.

I panic some more, for something to do, but then I get bored with that. I try to sleep, since that's about the only activity I can manage.  I wake up with a jolt, and groan. Still cuffed to the pipe, body's a mass of pain - stiff from the floor, from the kicks. My ribs ache bad. I need to piss - no toilet breaks in this scenario. I have no way of knowing what time it is. I strain to hear any noise - can't hear a thing, which either means it's still night, or I'm somewhere no one comes much. That's a thought I wish I hadn't had.  I'm thirsty too.  I close my eyes under the hood, and try and forget the pain, needing to piss, needing a drink, all of it, and think about Canada. Think about the mountains, the glaciers, the forests. Fraser teaching me to hunt, to trap.  Talking to Fraser. Working with him in Chicago. Unfortunately, I'm no good at this self-hypnosis game, and eventually my body's hammering for attention. I really, really need to pee. There doesn't seem to be much hope of being set loose before I embarrass myself, so I scoot my body as far away from the place where I've been sitting and lying, and let it go. Someone's gonna pay for this - unfortunately, I think it's probably going to be me. Now the place stinks like a urinal, just to add to all the other delightful things about being kept in captivity.

Hours pass, and I realize that Mr. Comedy is just going leave me here to die.  I try not to think about this too much, but it's not like I've got much else to do. My thoughts keep going back to Maggie and Fraser and how much I want to see them again. Me and Fraser, we always had this understanding of how much we mean to each other, but now I wish I'd told him that I love him. Not just like a brother, but as in, I'm _in_ love with him and have been for more than a year. You know, stuff you don't say to another guy, until you're chained to a pipe looking to die, and it's way too fucking late. Thinking about this is not a good idea, since my nose gets stuffy, making it even harder to breath, and that get me panicky again. I waste too much energy and a few minutes fighting the gag, the hood, the cuffs, and when I calm down, my wrists and ribs hurt like fuck. Get a grip, Kowalski - what would Maggie and Fraser say if they saw you like this? Probably something snarky and then they'd get me out of these fucking handcuffs. I moan in frustration. There's not much else I can do.

I sleep a lot, since at least that way I don't have to torture myself by wondering how long I can survive like this. The need for water is desperate - I run out of spit somewhere along the way, and probably couldn't yell even if I could get the goddamn gag off. I don't feel hungry after the first couple of times I wake up - a day, two maybe. Fraser once told me that the  appetite is depressed when water is short. _I'm_ getting pretty fucking depressed.  Sleeping is a relief, except for the dreams - really vivid nightmares. Soon I'm dreaming while wide awake - I think I can hear Fraser, Maggie - even Stella. But no one comes. I can't get over the irony of surviving being shot and blown up two years ago, only to die of thirst in some stinking hole in Florida. Not what I had in mind at all.

Too much time to think. Too much time to regret things I haven't done, things I haven't said. Too much time to wish I could control my heart better. Looks as though I won't have a chance to go back and fix things, but then I guess I won't be making any more mistakes.  The one person I want to see before I die, won't even know I'm missing until they find my corpse. Ironic that I wanted to get away to take my mind off Fraser and how I feel about him - now I got the rest of my life and all the time in the world to think about it. Looking death in the face makes me realize one thing - I've been kidding myself over dealing with my feelings for Fraser. Trying to get things going with Maggie was a mistake. Running away to Florida was another. No way is being apart from him, or getting together with Maggie gonna change how I feel. If I wasn't gonna die here, I'd be in big trouble.

I'm having one of them wide-awake dreams - okay, delusions - the one where Fraser comes in, in his red serge, and cuts the cuffs off with his pocket knife. I'm talking to him. There's something I have to say to him, but I can't say it. I can see his lips moving, but there's no sound, and I'm straining like crazy to hear it. I'm so deep into it that I don't hear the footsteps until they're nearly at my head. I want to struggle, but I can't move. Someone's fiddling at my neck, and then, miracle of miracles, that damn hood is off. Fresh air never smelt so good. I try to open my eyes, but they're all gummed together.

"Kowalski? Jesus Christ, you're a mess." It's Vecchio, voice squeaky in panic. Over me? Another miracle. I squint at him, but I can't see worth a damn. I feel his fingers at the back of my head, at the edge of the tape, and I want to tell him to take it slow, but he rips it off before I can make a sound. I try to yell, but nothing comes out. He props me up but can't do that very easily because of the cuffs. Then I feel him at my wrists, and suddenly one is freed. I fall back against him, and he takes the other cuff off, real gentle. I look towards where I think his face is. I want to thank him, but I can't talk - my tongue is swollen and my throat is ash dry.

"Kowalski, can you hear me? Ray, open your eyes."  I try to bring my hands to my eyes to wipe the crap out of them, but they won't behave. He runs a thumb across my lids gently, which helps, and I manage to get one eye open properly. I can only see him blurrily, but I can tell he's worried. "Can you stand up?" Dunno. He grabs me around the chest, which makes me groan and lean into the injured side. "OK, you're hurt. Let me try again." This time he holds me lower, around the waist, and he manages to pull me up. He has to do all the work though, because I'd fall down if he wasn't holding me. "Man, Fraser's gonna kill me for this." That's really funny, I think, and I give him a weak grin.

"Can you walk?" Stop asking stupid questions, Vecchio - can't you see I can't stand up on my own, let alone walk? He works it out for himself and still holding me around the waist, with my arm over his shoulder, pulls me forward. I concentrate on trying to stay upright, and wiping my eyes on my arm so I can see. He moves a bit then stops. Now what? I'm still swaying, wishing he'd get going, when I hear him say, "Danny?" I look at him and see he's watching the door. I turn to it, and there's a guy there, pointing a gun at us - and he's got Stella.

"That's right, Vecchio. Glad you found the little present I left you, sorry you won't get to enjoy it for long." He shoves Stella over to us, and she ends up next to me. "Ray," I hear her say in a worried voice, but I'm not sure which one of us she's talking to. "Who is this guy, Ray?" she asks her husband.

Vecchio sneers. "Danny Sorrento. Scumbag extraordinaire. Thought you were still inside, Danny, didn't think you'd ever be getting out." 'Danny S', I think. I'm right - it is Dunn.

"Well, see, Vecchio, that's where you're wrong. Michael took the rap for the Gardino murder - they only got me on extortion. So I'm out in four for good behavior, and of course I couldn't resist seeing how my old buddy is doing, with his pretty new wife, and the baby on the way. Pity Michael isn't doing so good, isn't it, Vecchio? Not with his wife losing their first kid like that, and killing herself? But, hey, that's life."

This lunatic must be something to do with the car bomb murder of Louis Gardino, that I remember from Vecchio's files. Vecchio interrupts. "Your brother brought that all on himself, Danny. "

"Yeah, but it was you and your Mountie friend who worked out it wasn't Zuko. We nearly got away with it. Imagine how unhappy I was when I got out and I found the constable had run away back to Canada.  I was so delighted  to find that his best friend, one Stanley Kowalski, was down in Florida to help you out. I may not be able to get the Mountie directly - yet," and my blood runs cold, "but offing his little pal is gonna hurt. Just like you're gonna hurt when I kill your pretty little missus here. Of course, I could have done that two months ago, but I've had such fun watching you run around panicking. Liked my little messages, did you?" This man is a complete fruitcake. Vecchio is doing his best not to look scared, but Stella is frightened to death, clutching my arm. I can just about see now, not that it helps. The guy has a gun pointed at the three of us, and I can't see us getting out of here alive, without divine intervention. He lifts his gun arm, and he's aiming at Stella. She's shaking with fright.

"Time to end this, Vecchio, fun though it's been. Say good-bye to missy here." I hear Vecchio yell, he lets go of me, I shove Stella with all my might, and then I feel like I've been punched hard in the shoulder. Oh fuck. Not again - I gotta stop leaping in front of bullets. I hit the ground on top of Stella. I just about can make out that Vecchio's knocked Sorrento flat, before I have to close my eyes. So tired. Someone's lifting my head, and there's pressure against my shoulder - against the hole, I guess. Hurts like hell, but hey, what difference does it make when I'm so sore all over? I can hear Stella calling my name, sounds like she's crying. Don't cry, Stell, it's all okay now, I want to say. I can hear Vecchio calling 911 on his cell phone. He helps me lie flat, swearing all the time at the mess and about me being hurt. I hope he's got his eyes on Sorrento because all I can do right now is try and stay awake. I manage to keep it together until the paramedics show up, but the last thing I remember is being loaded on the gurney, Stella holding my hand.

 

* * *

The phone call comes from Ray Vecchio on Sunday night, the news I have been dreading. Ray, my Ray, has been shot while saving his former wife's life, allowing Ray Vecchio to take down the gun man. Ray is just out of surgery, but is still unconscious. Although his life is not thought to be in danger, Ray Vecchio is clearly upset, and very guilty about what has happened.

"Benny, he's in bad shape It's not just the bullet. That bastard broke his fucking ribs, had him cuffed, gagged and blindfolded to a pipe for five days. No water, no food, no ...."He stops, and I hear him swallow. "He was just left to lie, hurt, in his own ... you know, like that." I realize what he is trying to say, and my stomach churns in sympathy. The ordeal would have been particularly cruel for Ray, being as he is, so adversely sensitive to offensive smells, to confinement, to the dark, and I wonder if Sorrento knew this or whether it was simply a stroke of inspired evil. Ray continues his painful narrative. "I thought he was dead when I found him. Then he saved our lives. After all that..." I hear how Ray's voice is breaking over the phone, from stress, from worry, from relief as well. I cannot force my voice to reply at first, as I imagine the horror of what has happened to both my friends, and fear what is happening to Ray Kowalski now. So close to dying. I comfort Ray Vecchio as best I can, assure him that Ray, my Ray, knew what he was getting into, and that he is a tough man who has come through worse.  Eventually he rings off, his voice still choked from emotion.

I sit to collect my thoughts, trying to calm myself before I tell the other person who must know about this. It cannot be done on the phone. I summon Dief and walk to Maggie's home. She is surprised to see me, and knows instinctively that it must have to do with Ray, and that it is bad news, but for all that she waits for me to tell her what has happened. She receives the information stoically, no less than I would expect from a fellow Mountie, but her control is no more perfect than mine, as I can see her eyes become moist. Silently I take her into my arms. The storm is set loose, and she cries on my shoulder, while I stroke her back. But being Maggie, her loss of composure is brief, and she pulls herself away from me. I see her literally shake herself back into calmness.

"I'm going down there. He'll need me."

"No, Maggie, there's no need. Ray Vecchio's a good man. Ray will be well looked after, and at the moment he's in the hospital."

"And Stella?"

I don't answer this quickly as would flatter the present Mrs. Vecchio. To be perfectly truthful, I never liked Stella Kowalski, a dislike I now have come to realize had no small component of jealousy in it. However, I have no reason to think she will do other than look after Ray as well as I or Maggie would, and say as much to my sister. She looks worried.

"Maggie, he's not in danger, and if Ray needs either of us, Ray Vecchio will tell me. I trust him. The best we can do is make sure that when Ray comes home, he is well tended."

She gives me a watery smile. "He will be, Ben. He will be."

I agree with her silently. I don't tell her I'm seriously considering making Ray wear an electronic tag and to never let him out of my sight again, because such things are foolish. But it says much for my state of mind that I even have such ideas.

Despite my words to Maggie, I do give much thought to going down to Florida, but in the end, I reject it - for now. Ray will need assistance when he gets home, and I can save my leave for then. Traveling now would just be indulgent. For now, all I am able to do is worry. Fortunately, I have had a lot of practice.

 

* * *

I'm cold and my chest hurts. My face is wet. Someone's saying my name.

"Fraser?" I struggle to open my eyes.  The ones peering back at me aren't Fraser blue, but Vecchio green.

"Ray?" There's a crack in his voice.

"Vecchio," I whisper. It's all I can get out. My mouth is dry, and my throat hurts like hell. Even that makes me cough, which hurts like a sonofabitch but then I feel something cold and wonderfully wet on my lips. An ice chip. I lick it, and when it's gone, my tongue's still looking for the moisture.

"Take it easy, Ray. You can have some more when the doc sees you. How do you feel?"

"Hurts. Hard to talk." I feel so fucking tired. "How long?"

"How long have you been here? A day and a half."

I frown. "How long ...  before?"

"How long were you tied up?" I nod. "Five days, they think, if they grabbed you Wednesday." I look at him in shock - I thought it was three, max. "You nearly died, Kowalski. If we hadn't found you when we did, you would have died of dehydration in a day or two." I close my eyes, not wanting to think about that. I knew I was close, didn't think it was that close.

"I better go find the doctor, he wants to look you over." I pull a face as he goes and fetches the doc. He comes in and beams at me.

"Nice to see you awake, Mr. Kowalski. Are you in pain?" I roll my eyes because shrugging would hurt too much. Stupid question - I got a hole in my shoulder. "Well, we can do something about that in a minute. I want to ask you some questions." He asks me a few questions to see if all my marbles are still there. "I must say you have an impressive collection of scars - make a habit of doing this sort of thing, do you?"

"Not any more."

"Anyway, I think you should be able to go home in a week or so, if you take it easy."

"Will he be able to fly?"  Vecchio asks.

"Possibly - have you got a long way to go?" Vecchio breaks the bad news to the doctor. He's not happy, but I don't care, I'm getting out the minute I can and going straight home.  Home. Sweet sound of that.

The doc finishes up, checks a few readings, listens to my chest and says he's happy. He tells me to get as much rest as possible, and leaves.

Vecchio comes and sits by the bed again. He looks like hell - how long has he been here? He feeds me the ice chips again without me asking, which helps a lot. Guess I got a lot of catching up to do in the liquid department.

"Is Stella all right - did I hurt her?" I remember falling on her - not a good thing for a pregnant woman.

"She's fine - just a couple of bruises. Nothing to what ... you know... I owe you. You saved her life."

"S'okay - you saved mine. Even Steven."

He laughs. "You been hanging round Fraser too long, you know that?" Don't I know it.

"Tell me about this Sorrento guy - what did you do to piss him off so bad?"

So he tells me the story. Seems Daniel and Michael Sorrento were trying to muscle in on Frankie Zuko back in Chicago, and Michael set Frankie up to take the fall for murder of Louis Gardino. Fraser found out it was Michael and had him taken down, along with his brother. Michael's wife lost the baby she was expecting - Daniel blamed it on the shock of Michael going to prison - and then she killed herself a few months after that. Michael went a bit crazy when he heard. Daniel held Vecchio and Fraser responsible, not his moron brother for planting the damn bomb in the first place. He came looking for Vecchio and Fraser in Chicago but found them gone. He heard Vecchio was in Florida, and that Stella was pregnant, so decided to make their lives hell before killing them. Sorrento's family spotted him the money he needed, and he used his connections to get the information he needed. I got in the way. The thought that Fraser could have been there instead of me, might have been killed outright if he had been, made me feel cold inside.

"The insider? It was Dunn, wasn't it."

He looks disappointed. "Yeah. Passed Sorrento all the information about me, Stella, you - told him exactly when and how to inflict damage that wouldn't hurt the business too bad, but that would worry us the most."

"Why?" This was the only thing I couldn't work out.

"Money, pure and simple. Sorrento greased him up good, told him he was trying to pick up the alley cheap and spook us into selling up. He's being charged with being an accessory to attempted murder, and a few other things. Guess I need a new manager." I close my eyes - it seems too much to have gone through what I did for so little reason. I hear Vecchio's voice, concerned.

"You all right, Ray?"

I open my eyes again, and try to look perky, and nod.  "You found me just in time. How'd you do that?"

"Sorrento - he left a note supposedly from you, telling me to meet you in the building."

"The handcuff key?"

"Habit - always carry one. Thank God." Oooh yeah - if I'd been cuffed to that pipe when Sorrento started firing, we'd all be dead.

"You looked like death warmed over when I found you - all I could think was what Fraser was gonna do to me for getting you into this." He grinned, but I could see he had really been shaken up. It had been a rough few days for him.

"The worst thing was having to piss my pants - I could kill Sorrento for that."

"Really?"

"Yeah - well, for that and for a few other things."

I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open, and my voice is dying. My throat's not up to this amount of chatter yet.  Vecchio decides it's best to cut it short. There's one thing on his mind, though. "Kowalski, you saving Stella ... I'm real grateful..."

"I saved a pregnant woman, Vecchio - not my ex-wife. Would have done the same for anyone." He looks relieved, and who knows, maybe I'm even telling the truth. It's one of them hypothetical questions. He can tell I'm fading, so he waves a hand at me and leaves, saying he'll be back tomorrow morning.

Before I crash, I make the effort to see what time it is. Only 8.00. Still, at least it's night time. Maybe one of these years I might even start sleeping the same time as normal people.

 

* * *

I'm in a hole, my hands are tied. I can smell the dirt, moist and raw. I can't see the walls, but I can feel them. And all the time they're coming closer, crushing me, until I can't breath. I want to scream, but I can't get the air. I know I'm going to die.

I wake, screaming for real, and a hand touches my face. "Wake up, Mr. Kowalski, open your eyes." The voice is one used to no arguments, and my eyes snap open to see a nurse looking at me with concern. "Are you all right, Mr. Kowalski?" I nod. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah. Couldn't breathe, felt like I was being crushed, like I was gonna die."

"It's probably not surprising, after what you've been through. Would you like me to ask the doctor for something to help you sleep?"

"No.. no... I'm fine." Don't want to start taking drugs like I'm a fruitcake. I was always a bit claustrophobic, but now... even awake I can feel the walls pressing in. The nurse checks my leads and drips, and turns off the light.  I could have done with her leaving it on, but I get back to sleep soon enough. But the way I feel when I wake up, I know I was dreaming again.

The hospital food's no better than I remember, but I'm starving. Trouble is, I run out of steam pretty quick, and the plate is still half full when I give up. The orderly removes it. I sag back, exhausted by the simple task of eating. Boy,  what a wuss. Staying here for a week, maybe more is gonna bore the pants off me, but no way can I fly home in this state.

While I'm staring out the window, feeling sorry for myself, a nurse comes in and tells me she's there to give me a wash. This is really embarrassing, but since I can hardly lift a hand to my face, let alone use the bathroom, I have no choice. She slips off the gown, and wipes my arms and chest, which feels kind of nice. I close my eyes and relax, but then I feel a cloth on my face, over my eyes, and I freak. "Stop! Don't"

She's confused. "Mr. Kowalski, I have to wash your face. Just calm down, it won't take long." She starts again, and I try to stop her, managing to grab a wrist.

"Just fucking stop, will ya?"

I'm sorry to be so rude, but I'm totally panicked. She drops the hand I'm holding, and pulls her wrist out of my grasp. "Look here, young man, if you are going to carry on like that, we'll have to put you in restraints. "

Then I see Vecchio like the wrath of God, coming up in front of the woman. "Get away from him. Now, lady."

The nurse backs off, terrified. "I'm going to get the doctor."

"Good, you do that, and then you can explain to him why you're threatening someone with restraints who's just spent five days chained up in a basement. Now I suggest you leave." The woman skedaddles. I'm embarrassed and upset at causing such a fuss, but Vecchio just gives me a grin. When did he get to be so understanding?

"Want to tell me what that was all about, Kowalski? Did she attack you?"

"It's kinda stupid. She just tried to wash my face, and I ... I just ... you know."

"Why?" He's not mad, just concerned. To my surprise, he takes my hand, and I grip it as hard as I can, which is not very.

"In the basement... when I was cuffed ... I had that hood over my face...Couldn't breathe, couldn't see ...." Vecchio keeps hold of my hand until my breathing slows down again, and I can speak. Boy, I don't want to be showing this guy my soft underbelly, but to my surprise, he doesn't use it against me.

"You're not crazy, Ray," he says, like he's reading my mind.

"I feel like I'm heading that way, Vecchio."

"You'll be fine. You just need to get through this, and then get yourself home."

"Sounds good to me."

The doctor comes in while we're talking. Vecchio looks at him all determined to fight his corner, but I know I was out of line. "Doc, look, I'm sorry about the nurse."

"No, Mr. Kowalski, I should apologize. She's new on the floor, and she should have been told about your history. You've just been through surgery, and had a terrible experience before that. It's not surprising you're somewhat emotional now. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. Just been having some bad dreams, and stuff."

"Yes, I thought you might be. I could give you a sedative, if you like?"

"Not yet."  He nods, as if he was expecting me to say that. Vecchio frowns, but it's not his body they want to fill up with shit. I'm having enough trouble keeping my mind straight as it is.

The week drags as much as I thought it would. The local PD come and take a statement about Sorrento. I realize this is all going to mean coming back to Florida for a trial, unless he pleads guilty, not something I'm looking forward to. I want to go home so bad I ache. I miss Fraser and I could kill for one of his Inuit stories. I miss Maggie too. I just want to be home with both of them.

Vecchio helps. He comes every day, and we talk about anything and everything. He's got an opinion on most things, so do I, and we get pretty loud, but under it all, I find I'm liking the guy.

The nights are another thing altogether. Sometimes I remember the dreams, and waking up. Other times,  I get through to morning and feel like a dishrag.

I'm hurt that Stella doesn't visit, but I don't say anything to Vecchio about it, because I know he'll take it the wrong way. They tell me I can get out on Friday - Vecchio offered to let me stay at his place for a few days but I just want to go home. He says he'll drive me to the airport, and he's paid for an upgrade to my ticket so I get to fly part of the trip in more comfort. On the quiet, I asked the doctor for a prescription for a sedative - planes make me freak a little at the best of times, and I don't want to be throwing a major fit 30,000 feet up in the air because I'm panicking about being confined. Fraser's called me  a couple of times - Vecchio says he's called him every day - and will meet me at the airport. I can't wait to see him.

Thursday night. I've been mobile all day and getting all the instructions about future care. I'm checking out early in the morning, and even though it's only seven, I'm already settled in for the night, tired from all the activity in the day. I hear a sound, and roll over carefully to see Stella walking away. "Stella?" She stops and comes back.

"I thought you were asleep,"  she says quietly.

"I was, but I wanted to see you. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she says, settling into the arm chair. "You're going home tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Back to the land of the midnight sun and all that."

There's an awkward silence. Why isn't Vecchio with her, I wonder?  "I wanted to thank you ... for saving me, saving us."

"Wasn't much - just a shove."

"You got shot, Ray."

"Better me than you and junior." She looks at me as if she's about to cry. "It's OK, Stella - you know I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."

She's quiet again, won't look at me.  "I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid ... that I couldn't handle it."

"Stella, I'm not your problem anymore. You don't have to..."

"Yes, Ray, I do. Because even when we were married, I couldn't bear the thought you dying in a hospital. When you were shot all those years ago, I swore I wouldn't be like other cops' wives, standing vigil while their husbands slowly slipped away. I wasn't going to watch that."

I am too surprised to speak. This is something we never talked about, me dying on the job. The irony is that the worst injuries I ever got were after we divorced. A thought comes to me.

"Did us not having kids have anything to do with this?"

She nods, and my heart goes cold. "I wasn't ready to have kids and look after them on my own, if anything happened to you. It was easier to delay, to hope that you would leave the force, that my career would get to the point where you didn't need to work. And when things went bad between us, I was glad we hadn't taken that step."

"Stella, I'd have given up the job for you, for a baby."

"I know you would - but it was the wrong thing for you then. Not like now. You weren't ready."

I ball one hand into a fist, angry at myself - if only we'd talked about this. But communication was at the bottom of all our problems. Never love, we always had the love, and the sex. But we stopped talking. But it doesn't matter now, I realize. We've moved on, even though I will regret to the day I die that things fell apart.

She's watching me, so sad, so gorgeous. "I love you, Stella."

"I know, Ray. Me too. But I love my Ray too. I hate it that we can't be friends."

"We are friends, Stell. I'll come whenever you need me." She gives me a lovely smile - she needed to hear that.

"Can I ...?" I motion to her huge belly. She's puzzled. I put a hand gently on the rise of her stomach, I can feel the little fella moving. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful." She smiles again.

"You would say that. You don't get the kicks to the bladder and the swollen ankles." But I can tell she's really happy to be doing this, to have this child. After what's happened, it's even more precious.

I lie back on the pillows, arm over my eyes. I'm so tired. What I wouldn't give for a single, solid unbroken night's sleep. She stands up. "I better go. Ray's waiting for me in the car."

"He doesn't mind?"

"Of course not, Ray. He owes you our lives. If you ever need anything, from either of us, all you need to do is ask." She kisses me gently on the cheek, then on the lips. "You look after yourself up North."

"You too, Stella. Look - let me know what happens with ... you know," I say, waving my hand at her stomach.

"I promise. One of us will call." She brushes her hand one last time against my face and then she leaves. Damn it to hell.   
    
 

Vecchio's there just before eight and helps me finish dressing without a trace of embarrassment, helping me manage the sling which is a major pain. I guess you could say we're almost friends now - at least we don't snarl at each other any more, and I learned a lot about him this week. Stella's in good hands, and he loves her as much as I do - maybe even more, who knows. The ride to the airport is hard - if I'm this sore from an hour long car trip, I'm not looking forward to the flight. The seatbelt catches and rubs on my shoulder no matter how I arrange it. Vecchio growls at me to take my pain killers which help. He says he's warned the airline about me being hurt, and he's told them to take good care of me, which isn't necessary because Canadian Airlines are big on pampering you anyway. He's found me a seat and won't let me move an inch - he's even arranged for one of those little truck things to carry me from the terminal to the plane. "Vecchio, I can walk."

"Ray, Fraser will kill me if you drop dead between here and Inuvik. Besides - you're tired, I can see that. Still not sleeping?" I don't need to answer that. "They go away, you know. The nightmares."

"How do you know?" I almost sneer - hadn't heard Vecchio had been chained up in any basement lately. "How do you know my brain ain't fried?" Goddamit, that sounded almost hysterical. I am not gonna lose it in front of Vecchio - not here. He doesn't seem to have noticed, and answers my question.

"Because they went away when I had them. Did Fraser ever tell you about the time we were trapped in a bank vault, and we almost died?"

I shake my head. He tells me how they got locked in a vault during a robbery, and Fraser, with his unique logic, decides the best thing to do when you're stuck in an airtight room with no means of escape, is to flood it with the sprinkler system and almost drown yourself and your flatfoot partner. "I'm telling you, I had nightmares for weeks after that - it really sucked. But eventually I got over it."

"What if I don't?" I mean, I had some nightmares after the boat thing, but it was nothing like this. This is more like being possessed, like some of that weird voodoo shit Fraser and me got caught up in, back in Chicago.

"Then you get treatment. Just the same if you hurt your back, or sprain an ankle. No big deal. You're one tough bastard, Kowalski - you'll beat this." I hope he's right. "Look - there's your flight being called. I'll let the transport people know you're ready."

Five minutes later, a guy comes with a wheelchair, and out of respect for the trouble Vecchio's gone to, I don't bitch. I shake his hand. "Thanks, Vecchio - for everything."

"Thank you, Kowalski. For Stella, and for me.  You ever need anything - you call." He gives me a grin as I'm wheeled off. I guess he's not as bad as I thought he was.

The tranquilizers take the edge off the anxiety I feel on the plane, which seems even smaller than I remember, despite having more room to stretch out. Make a mental note to thank Vecchio again for that. Changing planes so often is still a drag, worse because I just get comfortable and then we have to move again. My shoulder and my ribs hurt like hell, and the pain killers just make me fuzzy. Can't wait to be home.

I'm back in Inuvik by noon the next day. Maggie spots me before Fraser does, and swoops down for a hug and kiss which nearly breaks me in two. Then I look at her brother - if he was grinning any harder, he'd break something in his face. To my amazement, when he turns to me I'm pulled into a careful Fraser bear hug - I can count on one thumb the number of times that's happened before. All he says is "It's good to see you, Ray" but the hug is Fraser-speak for 'I am so fucking happy to see you, you cannot believe it!' Well, that goes double for me, Benton-buddy. Then he's back to normal Fraser, hooking up my bags, warning me that Dief has wrecked another pair of my shoes, and acting like I'm just back from a weekend away.

Fraser takes my bags into our house, and Dief nearly knocks me over except Fraser grabs hold of him in time. Finally I know I'm home - seeing Fraser, and now the wolf, make it real to me, what I've been dreaming about. A wave of emotion hits me and I kneel down, put the arm that isn't tied up in a sling around Dief's furry neck and squeeze him, which makes him whine. "I missed you, you big fuzzball," I say to him, hopefully low enough for Fraser not to hear. Who am I trying to kid? Fraser's looking at me with a half-grin on his face.

"It's good to be back, Fraser."

"It's very good that you are, Ray. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I admit. Lack of sleep and the tail end of the tranqs are really hitting me now.

"Do you want a nap?"

"Nah - I'll be awake all night. Just need some caffeine."

I go and sit on the sofa, while he makes tea - he's weaned me off coffee mostly.  As we drink, he asks me about Vecchio, and the case, carefully avoiding talking about my time being chained up. He filled me in on the details Vecchio never mentioned about the Gardino murder - how Irene Zuko had also died, and how that had hit him bad. Between the lines I get the impression Fraser had had a hard time of it as well. Nailing Michael Sorrento, instead of Frank Zuko who the other cops really wanted, cost him big time. Fraser's friendship with Vecchio must be strong, I think, if it stood that.

Fraser takes my mug off me, and I stretch out on the sofa, while he tells me about what he's been working on while I've been away.

 

* * *

Ray falls asleep mid-sentence, mouth open, the way children do, not that wild horses would drag that description out of me to his face - well, not unless he was being particularly provoking.  As he said he was trying to remain awake, I dutifully shake him, and as I thought, get no response beyond a muttered complaint. I take his mug into the kitchen, and fetch the comforter from his bed. I try again to wake him, but it is no use - he is soundly and deeply asleep. I briefly contemplate carrying him into his bedroom, but the thought of his still healing injuries stops me. Instead, I cover him up, make sure his head is not too uncomfortably positioned, that his sling isn't about to strangle him,  settle down in a chair to read, and keep an eye on him. The evidence of his ordeal is slight enough - there is a peculiar broad mark over his mouth and jaw, from the irritation caused by the adhesive of the tape used to gag him, and on the arm lying outside the comforter, there is an ugly scar from the cuffs which mars his thin wrist. Sleep soothes the pain lines which I noted when I first saw him, and which have aged him badly. One might be deceived into thinking his time in Florida was not particularly difficult, but I know too well that the harm done was not at all superficial.

It was very difficult not to show how shocked I was at his appearance at the airport, and as he walked carefully and stiffly to the jeep, a most unwelcome sense of _deja vu_ came over me.  Thinking of that, I give into temptation as I cover him with the blanket, and stroke his face.  Having him home again is a deeply satisfying feeling, one which I enjoy experiencing as I watch Ray sleep. Even Dief appears content, lying at my feet, nose pointed towards Ray, eyes upon his packmate.

 

* * *

I'm all stiff from the sofa, my ribs and shoulder hurt, and I've got that slightly spaced out feeling you get from sleeping in the daytime. I find Fraser in the kitchen and grouse at him. "Hey Fraser, you coulda got me to go to bed, or kept me awake or something."

He looks sheepish. "I did try to wake you, Ray - twice - without any success. And to be perfectly honest, you looked as if you needed the sleep."

I mumble an apology, and help him finish making supper. He carries two plates into the living room.

"How are Ray and Stella?" he asks.

"They're cool. Stella's huge, baby's due in a month or so. Vecchio's not so bad, once you get to know him."

Fraser's mouth quirks up in a grin. "I did try to tell you that, as I recall."

"Yeah you did. And as usual, you were right."

"Aren't I always?"

I sigh. "You see? This is what I missed. You and your ego. I was so lonely without them."

He looks at me seriously, and for a second, my heart flips. "Were you, Ray? You missed me?"  Whoa.

I try to be light-hearted. "Sure, why not. It was quiet without all the yakking."  He's not fooled for a second, and I realize I've let slip more than I meant to. I just keep eating, and soon enough, we're talking about the latest non-crime wave in Inuvik.

Despite my long nap, I sleep well that night, and feel full of beans next morning. I wait until a decent hour before calling Maggie at the station house. She's got to go to Tuktoyuktuk in the morning, and will be away for over a week. I tell her I'll see her when she gets back, and hang up. I've got some catching up to do as well.

Settling back in is harder than I thought. Since business is so quiet, and I can't work much on vehicles until everything is healed, I take to going on long walks with Dief. This is good for me, the freedom of being able to actually walk when and where I want, to see and smell and hear, is not one I'll ever take for granted again. It's good to be home.

 

* * *

Ray's first couple of days back are uneventful, although he is restless. Dief is certainly enjoying his return, as am I. Ray appears to be sleeping well, but on his third night home, I am woken from a sound sleep by a scream. Even forewarned as I was by Ray Vecchio, it takes a second or two to realize it is Ray, and what it is likely to be. Dief's hackles are raised, but I reassure him and ask him to lie down before I pull on my jeans over my long johns and go into Ray's bedroom. He is still asleep, and mumbling as I come in, then he yells again and wakes up with a jerk. I can see his ribs heaving from breathing fast, and his face is sweaty. For a moment he is confused by my presence, then he relaxes.

"Fraser, that you?"

"Yes, Ray. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Listen,  sorry I woke you up." He struggles into a sitting position and puts on his bedside lamp. "I don't need baby-sitting. I'm good." He looked somewhat embarrassed, and I hasten to allay his fears.

"I'm sure you are, Ray, and I don't plan on baby-sitting you."

"Oh." I watch him for a minute or two. He is still half asleep, but I sense my company is not unwelcome.

"Is it always like this?" I asks quietly. He shakes his head.

"No - I mean, it was. It's getting better - going away."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He thinks, then shakes his head again.

"One day ... maybe I'll tell you... if you want to know." I do want to know, but I don't intend to make him relive such a painful experience for my edification. He answers my unexpressed concern. "I'm okay, Fraser. At least this has cured me of ever wanting to become a cop again. Enough's enough."

"I'm glad to hear that, Ray.  These last few weeks have been ... trying." He looks at me, surprised, and I continue. "You know, I find it very hard to forgive myself for letting you go down, and then be injured. If ... something worse had happened, I would never have been able to forgive myself."

I hear him mutter, 'no shit' to himself, then he says more  loudly, "Does this conversation seem strangely familiar to you, Fraser?" I am momentarily puzzled. "Two years ago, mad bomber on a roof, lots of pointless Fraser guilt? I didn't have a gun to my head - I seem to recall having to make you let me go."

"Yes, but if I hadn't persuaded Ray Vecchio to let you go down there, none of this would have happened."

"Yeah, and you'd be short one friend, and me, an ex-wife. I think they were worth saving, don't you?"

"You're right, of course - intellectually, but emotionally you'll never convince me that your life is worth sacrificing even for Ray Vecchio's. He'd agree with me, I know that."

I surprise myself, and him, by saying this - when we were in Chicago, it seemed I had no compunction about endangering our lives to save civilians. But I am older and wiser now, and know how close I have come, twice, to losing Ray. I have learned to place a higher value on his safety than I would have believed possible. And it is, of course, no longer his duty to endanger himself when necessary.

He appears pleased, but abashed by my declaration. "S'okay, Fraser. I feel the same about you," he mumbles.

I smile at him and stand up. "Thank you, Ray." I turn off his light. "You know where I am if you need me."

He calls to me as I am about to leave the room. "Fraser, there might be more of this - you don't have to get up every time. I can handle it."

I go back to his side and place a hand on his good shoulder. "I know you can, Ray. Sleep well." He slides back down under the covers and closes his eyes, a slight smile on his face. I am glad he is so peaceful.

It will be hard to do as Ray asks and ignore the cries that brought me to his bedside tonight, even though I know that he is in no physical danger, and that very probably the nightmares will lessen of their own accord.  Ray is such a brave man, somewhat prone to panic over the strangest things, but courageous when it counts, that his being reduced to a frightened sweating wreck by his dreams, must be humiliating.  I hope it will not be long before he can put this behind him.

 

* * *

Maggie is gone closer to two weeks than one. My shoulder's healed almost, and I can stop wearing the sling, although now I have to start some physical therapy exercises on it, and I've started to do some light workat the garage again.  She calls me there and asks me to dinner, and it's only after she hangs up that I realize that she hasn't said anything about Fraser being there. Fuck. I'm not ready for this. Cool it Kowalski. You can handle this. You can be friends with her, you like her. So why am I having a panic attack here?   
 

I take extra care to dress nice, which amuses Fraser who doesn't realize it's because I'm probably going to let his sister down tonight. "It's a little late to be trying to impress Maggie, isn't it?"

"Are you saying she thinks I'm a slob?" I grin at him, but my heart's pounding. He sees me off cheerfully.

Maggie's made an effort too, wearing a dress for the first time since I met her. She looks gorgeous, actually, with a sparkling smile that makes me melt. When I see the table setting, my stomach churns. It's got candles, and flowers on it - she's made it romantic. She's pleased at the bottle of wine - I splashed out on the best Inuvik had to offer - but now I realize I'm sending all the wrong signals. I wonder if it's too late to cry off.

The meal is venison - of course - but delicious, and we talk about the Florida thing. I avoid the gruesome details of me being kept prisoner and just tell her what Orlando is like. Finally, we're sitting on the sofa. She's sitting real close, and then she puts her arm around me. I shift away a little. "Maggie ..."

"Ray, I just want to say something, please?" She looks into my eyes.  "We've been seeing each other for months, and I know you know I care about you. I just want you to know - it's okay. I want to move ahead with you."

She takes my hand. I pat hers with my free one. "Maggie, I'm sorry. I've been doing a lot of thinking and I ... just don't think this can work out."

She pulls her hand away, sits back a little and looks at me in shock. "Why? I thought you liked me. I thought you more than liked me."

"Honey, I do. I love you... but just not the right way. I'm sorry."

"Is there someone else?" I don't answer, but she works it out from my face. "Is it Stella?"

"Christ no, Maggie. You got it all wrong ..."

"But who else...?" I forgot she's a cop - big mistake. "Oh my God." She pulls away from me, and I can see her working it out. "Tell me it's not Ben. Please." I just look at her. "Ray - you can't... I mean, he can't... Dammit, Ray, you've put him in an impossible situation!"

"I know... I'm sorry," I say pleadingly. "He doesn't know."

"He can't know - he mustn't ever know. Ray - you'll have to move out. Leave Inuvik." She sounds almost panicked.

"I can't," I say weakly. Please, Maggie - don't be this way.

"You have to, Ray. My God - if he found out... if other people found out ... Ben would die of shame.  He's not gay - you'll ruin his chances of a normal life if you make people think he is. You can't do that to him."

"I know." Feeble.

Then something else occurs to her. "And all this time you've been using me as cover." Now she's mad. "That's despicable, Ray."

"I wasn't, honest, Maggie.  I really thought we might have something going ..."

"But now you don't. Well, that's fine. But I tell you this, Ray Kowalski - you do anything, anything at all, to hurt my brother, and I will personally hunt you down and shoot you. Word of a Mountie." Her lips are set in a tight line. "I want you to go. And you better not breathe a word of this to Ben. I think you better make arrangements to leave too, unless you want to cause him problems. I'll tell him I ended things. You back me up."

What can I say? Everything she says is true. I stand up and get my coat. "I'm really sorry."

She doesn't say anything, or walk me out. The last glimpse I have of her is an angry woman, trying not to cry.

I walk home in a daze, don't really remember getting back or opening the beer. All I can think is that if I can't hide my feelings from Fraser, it'll kill him. But hiding them from him is killing me. He's going to want to know why me and Maggie have split up. I hope she can convince him.

 

* * *

When I come home from the town meeting, the house is in darkness but Ray's coat is in the hall. It's only nine, early for Ray to have gone to bed, even with his injuries. I open the door carefully. The hall light works, so we haven't had a power failure. Dief barks, and runs into the living room. Friend, not foe, he's saying. By the dim street lighting, I can see Ray is sitting on the sofa, an untouched beer in his hands. He doesn't look up as I come in, but he pats Dief. I sit beside him.

"Are you all right?" I ask quietly, in deference to his contemplative mood.

"No." He takes a swig from the bottle, and I see him wince.

"Maggie and you?" I knew Maggie was going to press the issue of the progression in their relationship.

He shakes his head. "There is no Maggie and me. I fucked up." Then he turns to me. I can see light glistening off tears on his face. Shocked, I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Fraser." Then I feel him shaking. I have no idea what has happened, but he is clearly distressed, and for the moment, that is all that matters. I put my arm across his shoulders trying to impart support and warmth... and love. On impulse I stroke his hair, and for a moment I think he will pull back, but he doesn't. He doesn't speak for a long time. He has been through a lot in the last month, and I suppose he has just hit the wall.

We sit for maybe a half hour or more like that, in silence. The heat of his body feels too good for safety and I sternly remind myself that he is in need of comfort, that's all. Finally he pushes away. "Christ, Fraser. Sorry. You  gotta go to work tomorrow. Can't sit here all night."

"Are you okay?"

"I'll live. See you in the morning."  He stands up. "Fraser? Thanks."

"Any time, Ray. Any time at all."

Now it is my turn to sit and think. Something has come between Maggie and Ray. I will ask her tomorrow. But whatever happens, I must try to make him understand that he has a home here, and that he is wanted, needed. I don't want him to leave because of this.

 

* * *

When morning comes, that tiny moment of forgetting why I went to bed upset doesn't last a nanosecond. I remember what happened last night way too clearly. Maggie's face. Me bawling in front of Fraser. Feeling like a loser. Just wonderful. I don't want to get out of bed. I want to sleep for a million years, then maybe when I wake up,  this will all be over. But I can't go back to sleep, and staring at the ceiling, there's no getting past the fact I've fucked up well and truly. This place is too small to be at daggers drawn with one of the Mounties stationed here, and however much Fraser is my friend, Maggie's his sister. He can't be pals with me, and still keep on her good side. And God help me if he ever finds out why I broke up with her. But I feel the longer I stay here, the more likely it is that I'll slip up, and that really will be the end of our friendship, never mind anything else. If I stay, I lose and if I go, I lose. Last night with him comforting me was just too risky, as much as I needed it - as much as I loved being held by him. If it was anyone but Fraser, I'd have thought they were making a move, but I know with him it was just his way of trying to help, more's the pity.

I move from the bedroom to the living room, drink coffee and stare into space. There's a call at lunch time, from Fraser naturally.

"Hello, Ray - how are you?"

I'm tempted to lie, but seeing the state I was in last night, there's no point. "I'll live, buddy."

"I spoke to Maggie ... She's upset."

"I know, Fraser, I'm sorry ... there's nothing I can do ... look after her, will you?"

"I will. And we can talk when I get home."

Oh yeah. Talk. About what, Fraser? The fact I turned down your beautiful sister because I've got a jones for you the size of Alberta? The fact that me staying here puts you in a real difficult position? The fact that if I'm not with Maggie, and there's no hope of being with you, there's not a lot of point in me being here? You aren't going to want to talk about any of this shit, I know. I make some sort of noise which satisfies him, and he hangs up. Dief decides to make himself known, and even though he's a free agent these days, I pretend he needs a walk, and let him take me where he wants. The snow is thick on the ground now - Christmas is just a month away. I realize I have to make a decision, and the more I think about it, the more I realize that Maggie is right. She didn't say anything I haven't been saying to myself for months.  I can't stay here. If I go, I can still call Fraser my friend, and maybe even Maggie will come around eventually. I can go back to Chicago - Welsh always said I could get a job with the 2-7 again - or I can do something else. And maybe, eventually, I'll get Fraser and my feelings for him out of my system and find someone else. Hey - I fell in love with someone after Stella, never thought I would. Shame it was with a male Mountie, but it proved it could be done.

As I walk slowly back through the town which has become my home, I feel low as I've been since I was chained up in the basement. Leaving here is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done. It's for Fraser, I tell myself.

He's home when I get back, and without asking, he hands me a beer. "Come and sit, Ray. How are you feeling?"

"Been thinking, Fraser. Thinking about going home," using the lie which has to become the truth. "Being back in the States, I realized you were right. I don't belong up here. So I'm going to go back to Chicago."

He looks as if I punched him - hell, I feel like I've punched him. "Ray - if this is about Maggie ...."

"It's not. Leave her out of it," I say brutally.

He stiffens at my rudeness. "All right - but if you don't mind me saying, this all seems rather sudden."

"Well, a lot can change in four weeks. Had a lot of time to think. You know, time when I thought I was gonna die."

"You don't think you're overreacting to the stress of your ordeal?" Damn him. He's being so nice, and understanding, and I know I'm hurting him.

"No. Fraser - I don't need your permission. Maybe I'm just tired of everything. Maybe I'm tired of living with you."

That does it. He stands up, his voice cold and his face angry. "You  recall I once gave you tangible souvenirs of my trust and my friendship. You never gave such things to me, and now I'm glad, because I see you never had them to give. Please excuse me. Diefenbaker?"

And then he stalks out.  God, that hurt. He doesn't come out with stuff like that often, but when he does.... It's only what I deserve, and at least I don't need to worry he'll find out I'm in love with him. I drink my beer, and then another. Finally I make some calls. Time to get back to my old life, such as it is.

 

* * *

I had to get out of the house before I did something rash - it was bad enough my insulting Ray like that, most unfairly. I walk over to Maggie's house - I need to talk to someone about this, someone who knows Ray. I don't believe any of what he said for a minute, and I am convinced that Maggie is at the heart of this mess, whatever he says.

Maggie's in her kitchen making tea when I walk in. "My God, Ben - what's wrong?"

"You tell me. I just left Ray - he's going back to America, he says."

She sets her face. "Good. That's where he belongs," she says bluntly.

I take her by the upper arms. "Margaret Mackenzie, you tell me what the hell is going on here. Yesterday you were fretting because he wouldn't make a commitment to you, and now you want him to leave?"

"Take your hands off me, Ben, before I remind you that you're assaulting a police officer." I let her go. "I told you this morning. We had an argument. I found out he's not the person I thought he was and I'm glad he's going."

"This is nonsensical, Maggie. You may say you don't know him, but I do. I've known him for five years, he's laid his life on the line for me a dozen times. I trust him even more than I trust you, and that's saying something. I'm not prepared to let him go without a fight, and if you are the reason he's leaving, I want to know."

"I'm not. Ben - he's no good for you, he'll only hurt you and your career if he stays. You don't know him as well you think. He's deceived you and he's deceived me. I can't forgive him, and you should just let him go if you know what's good for you."

I stare at her in disbelief, wondering if I've gone mad or if it's just everyone around me. "What's good for me is to have my best friend and my sister being civil to each other, and in the same place as me. Maggie, I love you both, don't make me choose."

"I'm not. You said he's leaving. It's his choice. Ben, I swear to you, it's his decision."

Her wording makes me suspicious that she's not telling me the whole truth, even if she isn't lying to me outright. Frustrated and now angry, I go to the detachment and catch up on some paper work until nine and then walk home. I have tomorrow off, so I can talk to Ray in the morning, and perhaps he will be more reasonable. I'm not giving him up without a fight, and if I have to browbeat my little sister into telling me the facts, I will. This is too important for politeness.   
 

He's already in bed when I get home, after the consumption of at least three beers, I note, which in itself tells me that Ray is deeply troubled. I have to stop myself knocking on his bedroom door and forcing the issue - but if I do, I know he will just turn belligerent and come out with more venom designed to push me away and stop me asking questions. I know that will hurt him more  than it will hurt me and I won't do it.

I go to bed, but not to sleep. I lie awake thinking of the immense pleasure I've had in Ray's company - all our conversations and adventures. Even our arguments, because when we made friends again, it was so sweetly enjoyable. I sigh in the darkness. Not even Victoria captured my heart the way this man has, and I can't understand how Maggie could turn his affections away so coolly. All I can think is that I wish I were female, and had a chance of winning him. Or that he were female. Anything.

Around one a.m. the silence of the house is rent by a piercing scream. Ray again, but this is much worse than anything I've yet heard. Unlike before, the screaming goes on and on and he sounds like an animal in mortal agony. His face is running with sweat, tears are flowing from his closed eyes, and even when I shake him and slap his face, he doesn't wake from the nightmare gripping him.  All I can do, in the end, is to put my arms around him and hold him close, hoping that he will rise naturally out of the deep trance, into REM sleep and perhaps into wakefulness. I stroke his hair and soothe him, just I did the night before, only this time, he's not awake.  It takes at least five minutes for him to stop yelling, and another minute before I feel him shift in my arms. I let him go, and lay him flat again, keeping hold of his hand. He opens his wet eyes - he's still distraught. "God, Fraser," he says, shuddering.

"It's all right, Ray, " I say gently. "Just a nightmare."

"You were dead," and saying that provokes more trembling. I dare to stroke his face. "It was so real."

"I'm fine, we're both okay."

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. "Not okay. Never okay."

"Why?" I ask quietly, but he stiffens and withdraws from me.

"Go back to bed," he says tonelessly. "I'm fine, it was just a dream."

I lose my temper and shake him. "No, damn it, Ray Kowalski. You tell me what's going on. I know you're lying to me about wanting to leave. You wouldn't be dreaming like this if you weren't upset. Tell me the truth."

"No, I can't. Fraser, go away," he mumbles.  His face is a picture of sorrow, and it breaks my heart.

I switch from anger to pleading with him. "Ray, please. I need you, you're my dearest friend. More than that. I can't bear to see you like this."

"Fraser, I can't tell you. If you want to stay friends, you've got to drop it." His eyes are huge and wet in the dim light.

"No. I don't want friendship with someone who doesn't trust me."

"Your choice. Go away." He closes his eyes and rolls away from me, even though it's his bad side and must be hurting him.

No.  No. I nearly lost him. What could he possibly say to me that would make me reject him? There is nothing, nothing at all that would make me feel that way. And I know that is true for him about me too. I gather up my small courage in my hands. Time to lay my cards on the table. "Ray, listen to me. Look at me, please?" He rolls back and looks straight at me, and my heart clenches at the depth of his misery. "I have something I want to tell you. And then I want you to tell me what is troubling you, and I give you my word that nothing you say will leave this room, or change my feelings about you in any way." He starts to protest, but then nods. "Thank you. I ... may I hold your hand?"

He frowns but puts out his hand for me. So much trust in me, that I won't hurt him. "Ray - I have a confession to make. You know I love you as a brother and as a friend, don't you?"

"Me too, Fraser," he says with the first warmth I've heard in his voice all evening. I squeeze his hand.

"The thing is - well, we've become close, close as it's possible to get for friends. At some point, I am afraid that my feelings crossed the line of friendship." His hand twitches in mine, and for a moment, I fear I have said too much. "But it doesn't affect me wanting you to be here, or you having a relationship with anyone else. It just means that you hold a very special place in my heart, and always will. It's an honor to be in love with you. I wouldn't give it up for anything. But you see, you leaving will be very - possibly unbearably -  painful for me, so I want you to reconsider your decision. For my sake. Please? "

He's very quiet, and still. "Ray - are you upset? Offended? You understand I don't mean to act on these feelings, but I just wanted you to know, so there are no secrets between us."

He closes his eyes again, and to my dismay, tears begin to fall. He lifts my hand holding his to his lips, and kisses it, and then I understand what has happened. Him too. "It's wrong, Fraser," he whispers. "You can't ... we can't... Maggie says it'll ruin you."

"Maggie knows about this?" I say, in shock. He nods. "This is why she's so angry with you?"

"Yeah. I turned her down and she worked it out. I'm sorry, Ben. I never meant for this to happen. That's why I have to leave."

I put my arms around him and lift him to my chest. "Over my dead body, Ray. You aren't leaving unless I can come with you. I don't care what my sister says or what she thinks. I love you and I want to be with you."

He wraps his arms around me, lays his head against my shoulder and rests quietly as I stroke his hair, thinking about what has just happened. Maggie's right - it may cause a problem for me, although not as much as she thinks. I know of several same sex couples, some even in the RCMP and the main requirement is to live quietly and sensibly, just like any other couple. Ray is well liked up here, and I venture to say, so am I. And in any event, I will not lose him to blind prejudice and stupidity. If we have to leave to find tolerance, so be it. All that matters to me is the warmth of him against me, and the steady beat of his heart. "Ray - may I sleep in here with you?"

For answer, he pulls away and moves over to the other side of the bed, holding the covers open for me. I shuck my jeans and climb in next to him, just as we did on the trail many times. But this is different. This time, he gives me permission to hold him, to kiss him softly as his hands rub my chest. "We can sleep in," he says drowsily.

"Mmmm. Ray, what was your dream about?"

He shivers and I hold him close. "I had to watch you being buried alive. You were yelling and I couldn't help you. And then I was in a pit being buried as well."

Horrible. One didn't have to be a Jungian psychologist to work out the significance of that. "You're safe now. We both are."

"I'm home, Ben," he says quietly as he falls asleep, lying on my chest like he's never slept anywhere else.

 

* * *

It's late when I wake up, at least late by Fraser-Kowalski household standards. It's still dark but it's eight o'clock already. I've got my head on a big warm chest, so I guess I didn't dream that bit about Fraser saying he loved me. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep. No bad dreams for good little Mounties. I love him so much, but I never thought this would happen. I thought this was one of those impossible dream things - but I guess he thought the same. Boy, this feels good - this is the happiest and most peaceful I've felt since the day he said he'd come North with me. Maybe that was the day I really fell in love with him. Who knows - maybe it was right from the start but I never knew it. All I know is that one morning I woke up in the middle of a Yukon Glacier with him snoring in the sleeping bag next to me, and I knew I couldn't live without him. I also had this insane urge to lick him. Oh, what the hell - I can do that now, right?

I taste the little hollow under his jaw. Mmmm, he tastes good. I work on a few more bits of skin, indulging myself until he smiles, his eyes still shut. "Enjoying yourself, Ray?"

"Yeah." He turns his head and all of a sudden his lips are on mine and this is the real thing - lips to lips, tongues testing each other. No morning breath for him. He rolls over and catches me up good and tight in his arms and then he applies that frightening concentration of his to kissing me until my toes curl. "Ooh, boy. Way to go, Fraser, "I say when he lets me catch my breath.

His blue eyes are an inch from mine. "You called me Ben last night."

"You don't mind?"

"I'd prefer it, unless you'd rather I started calling you Kowalski." It's funny - it never occurred to me to call him Ben, even though he called me 'Ray' right out of the gate. Vecchio calls him Benny, but somehow 'Fraser' suited him. But he's right - I can't keep calling him by his last name like we're in school.

"Ben," I say and he smiles again "Just practicing."

"How do you feel?"

"Happy. Content. Can't last." He nudges me. "Well, it can't. Something will go wrong, you see."

"You sound like my father," he says dryly. "Nothing is likely to happen."

"Maggie might." He didn't think she'd be a problem last night, but they have to be practical. Maggie and Fraser have to work together if nothing else.

"I'll deal with her. But nothing she says will make the slightest difference to me. I want you with me for the rest of my life, if you'll have me. She doesn't have a vote."

"Oh, I'll have you all right," I say, snuggling deeper into his warm arms. Man oh man, he feels good against me. Never slept with a guy before - done my share of looking, but pretty much all my libido got taken up with the Stella. "Fra... Ben - you done this before?"

"With a man you mean? No. Does it matter?"

"Nah. You seem cool with it."

"Very cool," he says, grinning, and then we spend some more time kissing like teenagers.

The real world comes into the bedroom in the form of Dief and I wish for the fiftieth times Fraser would install a wolf flap. He groans and gets up, pulling his jeans on over his long johns. I think about wallowing some more but that would mean being up here while Fraser is downstairs and right now, I don't want to be away from him. I know - sickening. What can I say? I'm a sappy romantic at heart.

I get dressed and wander downstairs. He's already brewing tea and gives me a big smile like we've been apart for days and not minutes. I go over to him and hug him around the waist. "This is so weird, Ben."

"It is different, I grant you, but you are aware of the French motto, _vive le difference._ "

"I love it when you talk dirty."

Fras ... Ben is a really touchy feely lover, I discover. He needs to sit right next to me, pat me, play footsie. I would never guess in a million years he'd be like this, but then I would never have guessed in a million years it would be me whose hair he'd want to play with over breakfast. "How do we do this, Ben?"

"In the community? I don't see why we have to change anything we're doing. My living arrangements are strictly my own affair, and I don't expect you will want to express affection in any way that might cause offense - you've noticed people up here don't go in for that sort of thing anyway. I'll just make sure you're down as my domestic partner for my records, and we'll make what legal arrangements we need to. Maggie exaggerates, Ray. It's not the Dark Ages up here, and besides, there are laws protecting same sex couples."

It sounds so easy when he puts it like this. It's his turf, I figure, he knows what he's doing, and anyway, he has this way of convincing people even when they don't want to be.

"And Maggie?"

"Leave her to me," he says firmly. "If you don't mind, Ray, I'd really rather devote my attention to you. We've got a lot to talk about, and I've waited for you for too long." He barely lets me put my mug down before he gets hold of me, careful as always to mind my sore ribs. He's just hungry for me but then we're both starving. This is what was missing from our friendship - I needed to touch him, but I thought he wouldn't let me. He felt the same. Now we're making up for lost time.

"This would have made the Yukon a lot warmer," I joke.

"Yes," he says in a deep sexy voice, "I certainly thought so at the time."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why didn't you?" Well, duh, Ray.

"You know, I really love you, Ben," I say, licking his ear.

"I'd hope so, Ray. I don't just let anyone do this."

We spend most of the day curled around each other on the sofa, and later, in bed. I don't expect our lives to be like this all the time, but our first day together is special. There's so much to talk about, to explain. Finally that night,  as we go to bed to actually sleep, he asks, "Do you want to tell me about what happened to you in Florida?"

He holds me protectively as he asks. I'm not sure if I want to, but then, he's dealing with the side effects. I'm not stupid enough to think a mutual declaration of love is going to cure my nightmares. He told me earlier about last night and even though I only remember bits of the dream, and not screaming or anything, it frightened me. It worried the hell out of him although he said he's sure it was partly my trying to go against my true feelings. Maybe, maybe not. I decide there's only one way to find out. I rest my head on his chest - he's become my favorite pillow - and tell him as plain as I can what it was like. Not being able to breathe properly, or hear or see. Being sure I was going to die but not sure what would kill me first. Panicking and then having nightmares and daydreams until I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. Wanting him so bad and being sure I'd never see him again. The humiliation of having to go in my pants, the constant pain from my ribs and the strain on my arms, the cold of the concrete floor, and the smell. And just being afraid all the time.

He's quiet a long time after I finish speaking. He just strokes my head and down my back in long, soothing movements until I'm falling asleep. "I'm glad you told me," he says finally, kissing me on the lips.

I mumble something. There isn't anything to say - he can't undo what's happened, and him saying he's sorry won't help. This helps - him holding me, him kissing me, me being able to hear his heart under my ear. He's life, he's strength. He's what I need to get through this.

His hands are still moving up and down my body, and find one bit of me that isn't that sleepy. He runs his hand gently over the tent in my long johns and I jump. "Ray?"

"Ben, I haven't come in my pants since I was a kid, so you better put up or shut up."

"Gladly - if you don't mind." He's right in my face, I can feel his breath on my cheek, and  his hands are on my buttons, waiting for permission.

"I've been fantasising about this for months," I say and that's all he needs to go for it.

"I think, Ray, we're on the same page again. I likewise have wanted to do this for a long time."

The other thing about Ben as a lover - he talks too much. His hot hand finds me and I push into it like a total slut. My hands are undoing his buttons too, and oh yeah, he's good to go. We might not know a lot about what men do to each other in bed, but we know what we do to ourselves, and his dick in my hand feels as right as mine in his. It's all a bit clumsy - getting our arms and hands in the right position, getting a rhythm, trying to kiss and keep as much contact as possible and still stroke. We end up laughing and coming and making messes of ourselves. He wants to get up and clean but I shove a Kleenex at him and hang onto him until he gives up, wipes himself off and tosses it into the trash, just like I always do. "There, see?" I say, kissing him again.

"As always, Ray, your direct approach has much merit." He smiles and curls around me again so I can sleep on his chest.

Another good thing about this arrangement is that he doesn't have to come running in to hold my hand when the nightmare hits. He justs holds me a little tighter and says my name over and over until I wake up, then he kisses me gently, asks if I'm okay, and then I drift back into sleep, barely disturbed. Wow. He may not be the cure for the nightmares but he's sure good for the aftershocks.

Six a.m. and another gentle kiss and a stroke to my face. "I have to go," he whispers. I mumbles something friendly. Work day. Damn. I wave my hand in his general direction and he catches it and squeezes it. "See you later."

A few minutes later I hear the front door close quietly. I roll over onto my back and think about the difference a day makes. The wonderful difference a day makes.

 

* * *

Maggie is sullen and quiet at the headquarters, and stays only barely this side of outright rudeness.  I leave her alone for the most part, hoping that the normal interactions between two officers will gradually ease the tension between us. But at three, an hour before her shift end, I throw down my pen in frustration at yet another curt comment. If she keeps this up, our sergeant will notice. "Maggie, why don't you come over tonight so we can talk?"

She looks around to see who's listening. "Will Ray be there?"

"It's his home too," I say tightly. Her face closes up. "Look - there are things we need to discuss. We can't continue like this. If Ray being there makes you uncomfortable, I'm sure he could be persuaded to step out for an hour or two." Privately I think under no circumstances will I ask him to do so, but Ray _might_ of his own volition choose to absent himself. "Maggie, please - it's important to me that you and I are not at odds."

"Come to my place," she suggests.

"No. If you are not willing to enter my home, then you and I have no basis for a friendship."

She looks shocked at the ultimatum, but then she draws herself up.  "All right. But don't expect me to be nice to him."

"I only expect you to be civil. As I expect you to be to anyone who lives here. " She frowns but I think it is time to remind her of our position here, and that Ray is as much a part of the community we serve as anyone else.

She finishes work before me, and arranges to come over at seven. I debate whether to tell Ray, and decide that if I do, he will only worry. There's a phone call at four o'clock - Ray Vecchio, to my surprise.

"Hey Benny - just calling with the good news. Stella had our daughter, Rosa Rae, this morning."

He sounds ecstatic. "That's wonderful news, Ray. Wasn't that rather early?"

"Four week premature, but she's a good weight, 7 pounds nine ounces, and everything's just fine. I called Kowalski a couple of minutes ago and told him."

I wish he hadn't - I'm still not at all sure how Ray will react to the reality of Stella's child. "What did he say?"

"He said he was happy for us. You know, he's not too bad when you get to know him."

"Funny, he said the same about you, Ray."

I hear him laugh. He's too happy to be insulted. "Look, Fraser - I gotta go, lot of people to tell. But I wanted you to know."

"Thank you, Ray. Give my best wishes to Stella."

I hang up and wonder how my Ray will take this.  He was understandably shocked by news of Stella's pregnancy at first, but he appeared more sanguine when he got back. He seemed to have settled his feelings about Stella in many ways. I look at the clock and decide I can grant myself a few minutes' early departure  in view of the extra work I did the other night. I stop at the grocery store and decide that a bottle of wine would be a good thing, and perhaps a cake for dessert, then I walk on down to Ray's garage. He is head down in the bowels of our Jeep which he is forever tinkering with, and his delightful rear, even enclosed in grubby overalls, invites a caress, which it receives.

"Holy shit!" He comes out from under the hood like a rocket. "Jee-sus, Fraser! What if someone saw?"

"Give me a little credit for observation. How are you, Ray?"

"Missing you, fine otherwise." He leans on the edge of the vechicle. "Why?"

"Ray Vecchio called."

"Um. Thought he might. Good news about his little girl, huh?"

"Yes. How do you feel?"

He looks at me directly. "Jealous. Relieved Stella's okay. Happy for them. Enough for you?"

"Not angry?"

"Hell no, Fraser. How sick do you think I am? Vecchio's a good guy, Stella's happy. They worked hard to have this baby and I'm happy for them."

I stand a little closer and touch his cheek. "You know, I am so proud you are my friend, Ray."

He flushes. "Don't go getting all mushy on me now. What's in the bag?"

"Supper. Part of it."

"You're cooking?" He says in surprise. "Cool. What time?"

"Seven. Ray - Maggie's coming over."

The smile disappears. "Why?"

"Because I asked her. I have to work with her and things are awkward at the moment."

He crosses his arms and stares at me. "You gonna tell her about us?"

"Do you think I should?"

He sighs and shakes his head. "Damned if I know, Ben. I mean, she knows how I feel, but I don't know how she'll react to you telling her about how you feel about me. She might go off the deep end."

"I believe honesty is, in the end, the best policy."

"She's your sister, Ben. I'll let you decide."

I risk a quick kiss. "Thank you. I better get this home and the meal started. I'll see you back there."

 

* * *

I work later than I planned - just as I was thinking of closing up, one of my regular customers comes in with a broken fan belt which takes me a half hour to fix. It's quarter to seven before I get home and I only have time for a quick kiss and cuddle with Ben before I dive into the shower. Being busy stopped me being nervous this afternoon, but the butterflies in my stomach are really have a fine old time by the time I'm getting dressed in our bedroom (and when did my room become ours?) This evening is important to Ben - I could care less what Maggie thinks of me, but I don't want him to lose his sister over this. I hear the front door open and shut. Oh shit, she's here. I sit on the bed for a few minutes. I want them to have a chance to relax before I make my entrance. I look for a decent shirt, wipe my shoes. I look fairly presentable. Time to face the music.

They're sitting next to each other on the sofa, mugs of tea in their hands. Good - no weapons drawn. "Hi, Maggie," I say politely.

She frowns but says "Ray," in a neutral voice. I don't sit.

"Fraser, do you need anything done in the kitchen?"

"Not at the moment, Ray. Why don't you come and sit down, so we can talk."

I can see Maggie likes the idea of this as much as I do, but I do as Ben asks and sit in the armchair opposite them. Dief comes over immediately and lies on my feet.

Ben turns to his sister. "Maggie, Ray's told me what it was that upset you so much."

Her face goes red and she looks at me, furious. "I told you not to breathe a word about that to him. Haven't you any scruples at all?" she hisses at me.

I put my hands up in defence, but Ben's on it. "Stop it, Maggie. He told me because of something I told him first. Are you going to listen to me?"

"Go ahead," she says coldly, not looking at either of us.

"Thank you. What I told Ray is that for a long time now, I've felt about him the way he told you he feels about me. So, as you can see, there was really no reason for him not to tell me what had upset you. And there is also no reason for you to feel antagonistic towards him on my account."

She leaps up. "You ... and him? You both lied to me? How could you do that to me, Ben?"

Shit, now she's about to cry. She runs out of the room, and I hear the front door slam. Ben goes to get up, but I put my hand on his chest. "Let me." He looks at me, then nods.

I grab my coat and the car keys, jump in the Jeep and go after her. No point in trying to catch her on foot - she can walk and run faster than either of us. She's stomping down the road, tears streaming down her face, not really looking where's she's going. I pull up alongside her. "Get in, Maggie."

"Go away."

I drive on fifty yards and stop the Jeep and get out. It's a lousy night to be running around in - it's subzero on both scales, and snowing. "Maggie - please. Give me a chance to talk to you. Just half an hour, and then I'll take you home."

Whatever else she is, she's no coward, this girl. "Half an hour," she says, trying to hide the fact she's crying.

"That's all. Come on, get in. We can park somewhere and talk."

She gets in and huddles next to the door so as to be as far from me as possible. I drive on down to the edge of Boot Lake.  It's somewhere we've often walked in better weather, and someplace where we were planning on skating now it's frozen over.  She looks at her watch meaningfuly. "Twenty eight minutes, Ray."

I let out a breath. "Okay. Here's the deal. I love your brother, and he loves me. He says no one will give a rat's ass what we do if we don't rub people's noses in it, which we won't. So what's the problem?"

"You don't see it? Really?" Her voice is dripping with scorn. "How about the fact that you've made it clear that you were going out with me, and Ben was colluding in that, and the next minute you two tell me you're in love with each other. You've made me look like a idiot."

"Is that all you care about - what people think?" I've got some idea what the real problem is.

"No," she says, crying again. "We've been seeing each other for months - and now you say you don't care about me? I'm in love with you, dammit! I'm not the one who's been lying." She won't look at me, but I reach for her. She fights me of course, but I persist and pull her into a hug. She cries into my shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Maggie.

"You were just pretending to care about me."

"No, that's not true. I love you, I really do, but I'm _in_ love with Ben. I'm just not wired to be in love with two people at the same time."

"Why him, and not me? I don't understand," she pleads and I sympathise - I don't really get it myself.

"I don't know, honey. He was first, I guess. I wish it was the other way around - so does he. He doesn't want you hurt - all he wants is for you and me to be happy. He wasn't going to say a word to me while we were going out. Neither of us wanted you to be the one caught out."  I keep stroking her face and her back and I feel her relax a little against me, the anger leaving her.

"You must think I'm an idiot, chasing you like I was," she snuffles.

"No, I don't. I think you're a smart, beautiful, brave woman and I wish to God I could have you both because you are the sweetest gal I've ever met bar none - even Stella."

She's quiet for a while. "I wanted you so bad. I love being with you, being held by you. I want to kiss you, and now I can't. It's going to be so lonely." Fresh tears, and she's making me all snuffly too.

Boy, I know this one. I push her back a little so she can see my face. "I don't see why you can't kiss me."

"Huh? What about Ben?" She looks surprised, uncertain.

"I'm not offering to take you to bed, Maggie, but if you want to kiss me, you go right ahead. I like it." I don't wait for her, and pull her head to my lips. She makes a little moan and then I kiss her gently as I can, with as much love and warmth and kindness as I can. My eyes are wet too when we break apart.

"Oh Ray, I'll miss this so much." She settles against my chest and I pat her hair again.

"I'm sorry, I really am. But there's no law a guy can't give his best girl a kiss or a hug if she needs it. If Ben objects, I'll tell him to mind his own business. OK?"

"You really love me?" She sounds so uncertain, so unlike the confident Mountie I know she is. I hate it that it's me who's made her feel this way.

"I really do. Ever since I met you.  And I can tell you that any guy you meet after this better treat you right, because he'll have to answer to me."

"And Ben," she giggles slightly, a little high on all the emotion sloshing around.

"Me first. He gets the left overs."

She laughs again, and I kiss the top of her head, then her cheek. "How about you come back and eat? You know I think Ben bought wine?"

"You're kidding!" In the whole time Fraser and me have been in Inuvik, he's never bought alcohol of any kind so I know why she's surprised.

"Nope. And I bet he doesn't know what to do with it, so why don't we go and help?" She raises her head and I can see she's wondering if she can kiss me again. I put my head forward and she takes the invitation, just a little soft kiss on the lips, then she brushes my hair off my face. "Thank you, Ray."

"You're welcome, Maggie. Let's go back."

She nestles against me as I drive us the short distance back to Ben's house. He's waiting in the living room and meets us in the hall. He looks at me and I give him a  'give her a hug, you big galoot' flick of the head, so he does. She lets him hold her for a long time. I slip past them and make myself useful in the kitchen, open that bottle of wine and set the table. They come in eventually. I look at the two of them. They're both smiling, eyes a little damp, but that's okay. "We're good," she tells me.

"Yes, we are, " Ben confirms.

We have a good meal. Maggie's making an effort to be cheerful, and Ben puts on his best act, coming up with stories even I've never heard to make his sister laugh. Afterwards we sit on the sofa and drink tea. I sit to her and take her hand, which makes Ben lift his eyebrows but he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't look mad. She's relaxed now, and able to talk about Ben and me as a couple without sliding her eyes away. Finally she sighs. "I better go."

"Do you want a lift?" I offer.

"No, but Ben - you could walk me home if you like."

He smiles at both of us. "Of course."

At the front door, I give her a warm hug, and a kiss on the cheek. "Any time," I whisper.

"Thank you," she says back, softly. I watch the two of them walk off in the snow, and then pour myself a half glass of the red wine, sipping it slowly in the dark living room waiting for Ben to come back.

He's home in twenty minutes, so I guess he didn't have a heart to heart with her on the door step or anything. He doesn't turn the light on when he comes in but he comes and sits next to me on the sofa. "Is she okay?" I ask him

"Yes. Thank you. Whatever you did or said made all the difference to her. She almost looks happy."

"She's in love with me, Ben."

He looks worried. "Oh dear. So holding her hand ...?"

He doesn't sound angry or jealous. "She's lonely. Figured us being together was going to close her out, mean no one would ever hold her again. I told her she could kiss or hug me any time she wanted, and she only had to ask. Do you mind?"

"No. That was kind of you. And the right thing to do."

"I love her, Ben. More than just like a sister, just not the same as you. You have to accept that. I'm not going to be unfaithful to you, but she needs me too."

He takes my hand and puts his other arm around me. "As long as you don't hurt her and you come home to me.  I trust your judgment completely, Ray. And I thank you for giving me my sister back."

"She's a good kid. A great person."

He sighs into my ear. "Yes. So are you. May I take you to bed?"

"You may."

He pulls me up and takes the glass out of my hand. Then he wraps himself around me. "I'm very lucky, Ray. I have the man I love and the sister I love and I've never been so happy in my life."

"You know, I never gave you a trust stone or a friendship stone  - you were mad about that."

"I was being childish and trying to hurt you. You have nothing to prove to me."

"No, but come upstairs and I'll give it my best shot."

He grins. "Your best is more than sufficient for me, Ray Kowalski."

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


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